Carcrashes
by Elluxion
Summary: Transfiguration Professor Hermione Granger isn't surprised when she finds out that Draco Malfoy's a Death Eater. What really surprises her is that he is willing to change; war is on the brink of the horizon; Cho Chang's a Death Eater... chaos ensue.
1. Prologue

**Carcrashes  
Prologue  
Written by Elluxion  
**

_Carcrashes  
TV shows   
A drunkard on the side of the road   
People running  
Fantasy or reality   
Analysis and theories   
What does it matter really?   
_

Tell me what to believe  
Won't you bring me yonder   
Tell me what to achieve   
So I can move over   
Tell me what to believe   


Carcrashes  
TV shows   
A drunkard on the side of the road  
People run and run   


Credit cards  
A placid distress   
Go live your life on the Internet  
That's what this is   
Conspiracies and mysteries   
A science fiction  
Make-believe   
My guy's misery  


Tell me what to believe  
Won't you bring me yonder   
Tell me what to achieve   
So I can move over   
Tell me what to believe   


Carcrashes  
TV shows  
A drunkard on the side of the road  
People run and run   


Tell me what to believe  
Won't you bring me yonder   
Tell me what to achieve   
So I can move over   
Tell me what to believe   


Carcrashes  
TV shows  
A drunkard on the side of the road  
People run and run   


Carcrashes  
TV shows   
A drunkard on the side of the road   
People running   
Fantasies or reality   
Analysis and theories   
What does matter, really?  


-Standfast 

  



	2. Déjà vu

**Carcrashes  
Chapter One: Déjà vu  
Written by Elluxion  
**

* * *

Mwahahaha, disclaimer time. K, now, as much as I dearly wish it wasn't so, this whole ficcy technically belongs to Ms J. K. Rowling - that is, the characters. The plot, however unoriginal and boring it is, belongs to _me_. No touching. That understood? Good. :D 

Also, this chapter is thus dedicated to **Henrietta** (*smiles sweetly* Sorry Rie, just _had_ to say that) for being a great friend and one of the first people to review - and of course, to pick on whatever mistakes I've made. Seriously, Rie, thanks! 

If you're wondering why the title of this fanfic is _Carcrashes_, I want to tell you that no, there isn't a car crash in this fic. The whole idea of this fic was inspired by Standfast's beautiful song, Carcrashes. (Then again, I don't need much inspiration to write a Draco/Hermione fic. ^^;) 

Hugs and cookies,  
Elluxion 

* * *

**Title: **Carcrashes: Déjà vu 

**Written by: **Elluxion 

**Date: **25th November 

**Genre: ** Romance, angst, action, adventure 

**Shippings: ** Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger *grins* Can't get enough of them 

**Summary: ** Maybe changing is hard - but it's possible - right? (I have very very short summaries *nod*) 

**Notes: ** Harry and Ron fans might be disappointed, because there won't be much of them. ^^; 

Onwards! Onegai, review! 

* * *

The shop was tiny. But it was well-lit with candles of various colours and shapes; candles that burned nothing it came into contact with save the wick. Packages, colourful wrappings, robes, and various knick-knacks were stacked treacherously from floor to ceiling. Carrie's Corner was famous in Diagon Alley. 

A woman, dressed in sensibly durable working dark-green robes with hardly any fancy frills, stood behind the counter, scanning the shop critically with warm blue eyes. She had snow-white hair that was neatly tucked into a bun, and a tiny, frail body. Petite fingers were wrapped around a worn-looking wand that danced across the air, installing items into their respective places. 

A bell tinkled, and the door opened and shut quietly. Mrs Carrie glanced up and a welcoming smile spread across her face as she realized who it was - only one person had such unnatural grace and pride. Curly brown hair fell across her face, intense dark eyes locked on Mrs Carrie with a glimmer of fun, chin held high, robes whispering around a slender body's lithe movements. Hermione Granger shook the hair from her eyes to reveal a smile illuminated in candlelight. 

"Good evening, Mrs Carrie." 

"Hello, dearie. What might bring you here tonight?" Mrs Carrie set down her wand and peered at Hermione over her glasses. 

"You see - " the Hogwarts Transfiguration Professor paused, hesitant. "Hopefully you won't find me too indulgent, but I'm looking for new dress robes to wear for Hogwarts' Christmas Ball." 

"Not at all!" Mrs Carrie laughed lightly. "I have the pefect thing for you, Hermione." She rummaged around behind the counter as Hermione took off her coat and folded it carefully over one arm. "There!" 

Mrs Carrie held up dress robes fit for a queen. Made of silk, the navy-blue material had a belt and a star etched carefully onto the hip. Long, flowing sleeves and a flaring hem at the bottom enhanced the effect. It shimmered in the candlelight as a slight breeze caught it. 

"Mrs Carrie!" gasped Hermione. "That's beautiful! But you know my financial situation, I certainly can't afford that!" 

"Oh yes you can," Mrs Carrie promised with a child's glee. "I made it specially for you." 

Hermione was speechless as Mrs Carrie bustled out from behind the counter, robes clutched over her chest, and gently seized her elbow. Dumping the robes in Hermione's arms, Mrs Carrie propelled her to the back of the shop where a changing room beckoned enticingly. 

"Try it on!" 

The twenty-six-year-old gaped at the silky material in her arms, held so carefully that she seemed afraid that it would shatter in her arms. 

"Go on, Hermione!" 

Hermione just shook her head as she stepped out of the plain purple robes she was swathed in and slid the dress robes over her head. It fit her perfectly. She tightened the belt around her waist, did up the buttons, and simply stared at her reflection. 

A sheen of azure light pulsed purposefully from her robes, noticeable only to the alert eye. _Mrs Carrie must have magicked this,_ Hermione thought, still somewhat in a daze at the expensive material. 

She drew the curtains back and smoothed the dress robes down. When she saw Mrs Carrie entertaining another customer, Hermione snapped her mouth shut and waited patiently, leaning against the wall, still amazed at the blue halo that threw a mixture of light and shadow over her face. 

~*~ 

The bell sang out again, and Mrs Carrie waited as the door swung open again. It revealed a lanky man, with a curious mop of closely-cropped silverish-golden hair. Grey eyes, cold and expressionless, yet somehow attractive, trained right on her after they flicked around the shop. His lips were set in a line, bitter, and somewhat unhappy. 

"May I help you?" Mrs Carrie asked. 

He nodded, icily but politely. "I'm attending a party, and I happen to be looking for new dress robes." 

"Certainly, sir," Mrs Carrie said cautiously. "Take your time and look around the shop." 

It was then Draco Malfoy caught sight of the young woman leaning against the wall, watching him intently with a mixture of curiously and wariness. He took in the long hair, the brown eyes, the head held proudly - and a wave of déjà vu swept over him. She looked familiar, as if he'd seen her somewhere before. Dismissing the queer notion, Draco turned his attention to a stack of men's dress robes. 

"I might recommend something, sir," spoke up a voice that triggered another wave of familiarity. Draco looked up, fingers tightening around the wand concealed within his robes. You could never be too safe. 

The young lady was rather pretty, really. In fact, if he allowed emotions to seep through his mental dam, she was beautiful, dressed in silk blue robes like that. "What would that be?" he asked, with a bow of his head to indicate acknowledgement. 

She raised a hand and gestured with uncanny grace to another row of dress robes Draco had missed out in his hasty once-over of the shop. _I don't give a damn about this,_ he chided himself. _They're only dress robes._ And yet he gave her another nod for appearance's sake and moved towards the row. 

"Mrs Carrie likes to tuck away her nicer dress robes," she joked, laughing aloud. Draco didn't follow in her laughter, and usually the silence would have shut anyone up straightaway. But she continued chuckling, completely at ease. 

Draco narrowed his eyes at the laughter and the ease. _Dammit, who is she?_ The name, the face, the voice - they were elusive, but they were on the tip of his tongue. Impatience coursed through him as he sought to remember. _I'm not about to lower myself to ask what her name is._

Shrugging it off, and yet still troubled at the back of his mind, Draco attended to the robes hanging in front of him, letting go of his wand. 

Who cared, anyway? It was probably someone from his childhood. The grim line that his lips were pressed into tightened as he sifted bitterly through the difference of his past, his present ... and his inevitable future. 

~*~ 

He looked like a man of many worries, Hermione noted instantly as he exchanged a few words with Mrs Carrie. 

She felt the annoying sense of déjà vu engulf her again as she watched him look swiftly over a stack of men's dress robes. With that silver-gold hair and steely eyes, he should have been easy to remember, but so far, the recollection was evading her. 

"I might recommend something, sir." The words were out of her mouth before she could cram them back in. The grey eyes fixed on hers, and he inclined his head. "What would that be?" he asked. 

Hermione waved at a row of dress robes situated in a corner of the shop. The selection was wider there, and she had given them a passing glance when she had headed into the dressing room to change, and she had noted that they were well-designed. 

Feeling suddenly self-conscious, she looked on as he moved towards the row. She stabbed at another attempt to be friendly. Tacking on a laugh, she breezily remarked, "Mrs Carrie likes to tuck away her nicer dress robes." 

He didn't follow in her laughter, but Hermione did so, allowing hers to trail off lightly. She saw him stare at her, with a flicker of something that might be classified as interest flaring up and dying down just as quickly in his eyes. 

Trying to forget about the familiarity she found rooted in her, Hermione stood up straight, and made for Mrs Carrie, who was staring at her in delight. "It fits you, Hermione!" 

"Thank you very much for this, Mrs Carrie," Hermione said, running her fingers over the delicate material. "How much will it be?" She reached inside her purple robes and withdrew a purse. 

"Silly goose," Mrs Carrie laughed. "It's my Christmas gift to you." 

"Ohhh," breathed Hermione in surprise. "Thank you!" Impulsively, she reached over and gave Mrs Carrie a tight hug. 

"You're welcome, dearie. Now go change back to your other robes. I'll wrap this up for you." 

Within moments, Hermione had back on her plain teaching robes, and she had a package tucked under her arm. "Good-bye, Mrs Carrie! And thank you!" 

"Good-night, dearie." 

~*~ 

"I'll take this, madam." Draco handed the dark grey dress robes to Mrs Carrie. Noting the seriousness of the robes, Mrs Carrie asked, "Are you attending a business party, sir?" 

"Not exactly." 

Mrs Carrie didn't pursue the matter further. _Each to his own taste. If this young man prefers a more sombre appearance, who am I to suggest something else?_ "Thank you," she said to him as she tapped the robes with her wand. Wrapping tissue crackled as it covered the dress robes. 

"Good evening," Draco returned, picking up the package. 

"If I might ask - " Mrs Carrie paused as his eyes locked on hers. Those eyes were unnerving. "Which party are you attending?" 

Draco paused almost thoughtfully before answering. 

"Hogwarts' Christmas Ball." 

* * *

There ... Chapter One done. :-) Short, I know, but don't worry - following chapters will be longer. This is just an introductory thing. Not much in the plot development, but this is more of a romance fic than a dark-side-fight-against-light-side one. ^^; Hopefully you liked it, and do review! I'd appreciate constructive critiscm, but flames will be used to line my owl's cage to wrap up droppings. 

Hugs and cookies,  
Elluxion 

* * *


	3. Drop in the Ocean

**Carcrashes  
Chapter Two: Drop in the Ocean  
Written by Elluxion  
**

* * *

You know what? Saying stuff like this is discouraging me. Yes, Draco and Hermione will never belong to me (or together), but do I have to repeat it every chapter? Grrrrr! :[ Fine, disclaimer, let's get it over and done with: the wizarding world doesn't belong to me. *sarcastically* Wow! What a surprise! It's actually property of Ms J.K. Rowling! Now let's get on with the ficlet! Grrrrr! :[ 

(Don't get scared - I'm just annoyed ^^; No! Wait! Don't press the x! *voice trails off*) 

For those brave enough to stay and read on, Chapter Number Two is dedicated to **Nicole** (also known as the *very* talented Tenebrae), who took time out of her busy schedule to write to me, and for being the absolute first person to read and review _Spitfire_. ;) Huggles to you, dear friend! 

Hugs and cookies,  
Elluxion 

* * *

_"'Cause I was feeling small, as a drop in the ocean ..."_

  


-Michelle Branch, _Drop in the Ocean_

* * *

Harry Potter stood in the doorways of the Great Hall like a frozen statue, nothing but his brilliant green eyes moving. The bewitched ceiling was outdoing itself with the beauty of the landscape outside proudly displayed, and he caught more than just one familiar face walking up and down between the four tables: Slytherin, famous for their cunning; Gryffindor, known for their courage; Ravenclaw, where wit was valued above all; Hufflepuff, whose members were endearing in every which way. 

"Brings back old memories, eh?" Ron Weasley's voice rang out from beside him. Harry nodded, turning to his best friend with a somewhat sad smile. "It's like old times," he mused. "Minus Hermione." 

Silence. Then Ron spoke up again. "Where has she gone, anyway? She's just disappeared ... ?" 

"I sent her letters through Hedwig," Harry said. "She replied the first few, then Hedwig began returning with the letters I sent. Maybe she moved to a Muggle place and didn't want Hedwig to get caught with the letters?" 

"Maybe. Maybe not," hinted Ron darkly. 

"Some help you are," snorted Harry. Almost automatically, his legs moved him to his usual place at the Gryffindor table, and Ron had to yank at his elbow to remind him, none too gently, that he was no longer a student of Hogwarts. 

"Right," muttered Harry, messy hair covering his scar. No one took any notice of them yet - student or staff alike. Ron steered him to the teachers' table, and Harry took a place beside a pretty young lady whom he didn't know. She had her head turned, talking to Professor Flitwick. Harry waited patiently for her to finish. 

She turned her head, and Harry watched with a raised eyebrow as her dark eyes mirrored confusion, then recognization. She broke out into a grin. "Some friend you are, Harry." 

"What?" How did she know his name? 

"I'm Hermione Granger." 

"_Hermione!_" Harry screeched, losing hold of his composure. Ron, who had settled himself down next to Harry, spat out a mouthful of pumpkin juice. "Hermione where?" 

"Right here, Mr Weasley," said Hermione, perfecting Professor McGonagall's tone of voice. 

Harry laughed and leant over to give Hermione a hug. Ron shoved his chair back and joined them. "Where on earth have you been, Miss Granger?" retorted Ron sternly. 

"I kind of wandered around for a year or so. Then I heard that Hogwarts was growing and needed a second Transfiguration Professor to juggle lessons - so here I am," grinned Hermione. "Now what's happened with you guys recently?" 

Harry blushed and ducked his head at the question. Ron leant on Harry's shoulder with an elbow, grinning back. "Let's just say I have a new brother-in-law." 

~*~ 

"Welcome back," said Professor Dumbledore happily, shaking Draco's hand. Draco politely nodded - didn't he convey practically all emotions with nods nowadays? - and replied, "It's good to be back. I see the ceiling is outdoing itself." 

"Oh, yes, the Professors and I worked hard a few months ago to strengthen the charm put on it." 

"It looks beautiful," remarked Draco. 

"Thank you," said Dumbledore. "Now why don't you sit down here and have a nice chat with one of our Professors?" He led Draco to a seat opposite a brunette, whose head was turned to the one side, and Draco sat, staring blankly out at the Great Hall. _I shouldn't have come._

That was before he caught Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived, laughing and talking with the Professor that was seated opposite of Draco, and Ron Weasley, Potter's sidekick. 

He was torn between smirking and laughing out loud. That enmity - it had been so long! 

Then Albus Dumbledore held up a silver spoon and tapped the edge of his goblet. The tiny sound echoed around the Great Hall as the students fell silent. 

"Good evening, and Merry Christmas to all students!" Dumbledore began, smiling. "Tonight's a special occasion - we've got some of our old students back to Hogwarts! You might recognize some as your parents, friends, or even teachers. Before I say any more, let the feast begin!" 

The brunette Professor turned to him then and smiled pleasantly, before her mouth opened in a little breathless O. Draco felt like parroting her expression: it was the same woman he had spoken to at Carrie's Corner! Before he thought any better of it, he held out a hand as the band struck up a slow-tempo tune. 

"Care for a dance, Professor?" 

"Certainly." She stood up, and gave Harry and Ron an apologetic smile. The Professor crossed over to the other side of the table and took Draco's hand. He propelled her gently to the dance floor, where they took up a dancing stance. Draco couldn't help but notice her uncanny, flawless grace again as she swayed to the music. 

"May I ask what you teach in Hogwarts?" said Draco, after a few moments of silence. 

"I'm one of the Transfiguration Professors," she replied. "And what do you do for a living?" 

_I'm a Death Eater,_ Draco felt like responding. _I kill people._ And suddenly he felt like laughing hysterically as well: what a joke his life was! 

"Oh, I work at the Ministry," he said instead. "Nothing big, I assure you - just one of the Ministry wizards." 

"I see," she smiled politely. The song was drawing to a close. "What is your name?" she blurted out. Her eyes widened and her hand flew to her mouth in horror. "I'm sorry," she said in dismay. "It's just that you seem so familiar. But I can't seem to remember - " 

"It's fine," Draco interrupted, letting a few seconds of silence float by, grateful that he wasn't the first one to ask. "My name is Draco Malfoy." 

Her eyes widened to the point where they couldn't widen any further. "_Malfoy!_" 

"I'm guessing you were one of my many old enemies?" asked Draco, almost laughingly. _Not a good sign. She nearly made me laugh._

"Actually, I was one of yours." The Professor grinned, and the last notes of the song cavorted through the air. 

"Who are you?" Draco interjected. 

"Hermione Granger," she said, and disappeared into the crowd. 

~*~ 

Hermione pressed her forehead onto the cool glass of one of the greenhouses. The music in the Great Hall was beginning to grate - painfully - into her mind. 

"Well, Professor Granger, I had a feeling I would find you here," came a smooth voice behind her. Hermione heaved a sigh and took her time in turning around, knowing who would stand there, studying the young man who stood behind her. 

"Hello, Mr Malfoy," she said quietly. "I never expected to see you after graduation." 

"Why don't we take a walk, Professor?" he suggested, his calm grey eyes not betraying a single emotion. 

Hermione paused, the offer waving tantalizingly in front of her. She was intrigued, she had to admit: intrigued at the perfect gentleman that Draco had grown up to be; intrigued in his present; intrigued at what could have changed him, somewhat, to an extent. The cynical Draco was still present, and yet, something was different ... 

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak too much. Draco positioned himself beside her and together, they set off, walking around the lake. The giant squid was doing a curious, queer dance, tentacles swaying and twisting in the ether. 

"What are you working as?" Hermione asked again, more gently this time. Her voice was carried far across the lake by a sudden, wintry breeze. 

"I told you - at the Ministry," Draco said patiently. 

Hermione was a good - in fact, one of the best - readers of faces around. She caught the well-hidden lie in his eyes, and the unnatural tremble in his voice. 

"Tell me the truth, Draco Malfoy." She used his full name to make him pay attention. 

"I'm a Death Eater, Hermione Granger," said Draco, staring at her softly, sadly, before turning his head away. 

"I don't like the way my life turned out," Hermione said quietly. "I didn't expect to be single at this age - completely unattached - neither did I expect to walk the halls of Hogwarts as a teacher." 

"I don't like the way my life turned out either," Draco replied, whirling to face her. She saw the glimmers of tears in his eyes, breaking through the defense he had so painstakingly built up. "I don't." 

"You can change it," Hermione said encouragingly. "You can quit - " 

"You're not the first person to say that. But don't you know?" He asked darkly. "When the Dark Mark is burned into a Death Eater's forearm, there is no way he can remove it." 

"You don't have to do this, Malfoy," scowled Hermione, feeling anger flare up inside of her. 

"It's my destiny. I've been raised to believe in this. My life's been planned out for me by my father already - I can't change it." Draco shrugged it off with an indifference Hermione found astounding. 

"But - " 

"Why are we having this conversation, anyway?" Draco asked wistfully. "Couldn't we talk about something else? If I wasn't a Malfoy, we would have been talking about your working life, about Hogwarts, about your kids and mine. But as it is, we're talking about my birth and death as a Death Eater, as a follower of Voldemort. We're talking about one of the darkest futures ever." 

"Hell, I _want_ to talk about it!" yelled Hermione, spinning around angrily to look Draco straight in the eye. "I _hate_ people who say things like, 'it's my destiny, it's my fate, I can't change it, so la di da, let's just go off and kill ourselves and die a stupid prat'! You have willpower, Draco, you _know_ you have willpower - use it, for God's sake!" 

"What is my willpower compared to Voldemort's?!" growled Draco in return. "He wants to take over the world - and am I supposed to be rebelling against him? He's - he's _Voldemort_! Isn't that reason enough?" 

"_NO!_" screamed Hermione, and that very word rang around the empty, desolate grounds. From far off, a string of laughter wafted towards them. 

"No," Hermione repeated in a dry whisper, gaining control of herself. They had walked the entire length of the lake, and even the giant squid had retreated to its home. 

There was a haunting silence as Draco's mind spun. _How many times have you had this conversation in your own head?_ he questioned himself harshly. 

"It's out in the open now," Hermione said, making sure that her eyes never left his. Fiery brown met stormy grey. "I can tell 'some particular people', and you can be killed before the moon sets. But I won't, Malfoy. Maybe talking over it helped you some, but I don't know, okay? You're just a wizard who walked into my life. I'm not a powerful witch. Sure, I may know every spell in the book, but what's knowledge compared to lineage power? My parents are Muggle-born. Draco, you're a Malfoy, you have that power inside of you. Use it." 

Draco opened his mouth to retort something, but he snapped it shut as a hiss of pain escaped from between gritted teeth. "Shit," he swore, almost unable to get the word out. 

Hermione glanced up at him, worry etched in her face. Draco's eyes were shut tight, and it was taking every ounce of his willpower not to writhe on the floor and scream in pain. 

"Draco? Are you all right?" She reached out to take his shoulders and to steer him to a nearby bench, but Draco shuddered at her touch, however soft, however light. "No, Hermione," he forced out. "Don't touch me." 

Hermione, startled by the fact that he had used her first name, sprang back as if scalded. 

And suddenly the pain seemed to pass. Draco's body relaxed, but his eyes were brimming with worry and anxiety, and his lips were pressed together tightly. Hermione reached out to touch him, and her fingers trailed over his left arm. Draco drew back again, letting out a grunt of pain. 

"No, Hermione, don't. I'm being called by Voldemort." Draco spat out the name like it was poison. "He wants a word with me." 

"Can I - " 

"No!" Draco said hotly, and his tone matched Hermione's earlier one: forceful, indigant, shocked. Gathering his robes, Draco stood and left like a fleeting shadow. 

He never saw the petite, slender form that stole after him. 

* * *

*grins* Another chapter done, and I think I'm quite pleased with the way the ending turned out. Pretty angsty, and I really should up the rating to PG-13 for some language. The words spoken between Hermione and Draco weren't too dramatic, were they? (Please answer that question) I was okay with exchanges of words before in my old Card Captor Sakura fics, hopefully I crossed over to Harry Potter in one piece ... LOL. 

Well, I'm just another crazy author talking to herself, I guess. ;) Thank you so much for all your encouraging reviews, and KEEP REVIEWING! I'd _love_ some constructive critiscm. This is because I don't use Spellcheck (all my files are in .htm format, and I update through Notepad) and my grammar and spelling glitches often go unchecked. Thanks to Rie and another reviewer who pointed out the Professor Sprout and Seamus Finnigan spoofs ... *hangs head in shame* I own only Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone and Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, and they're all packed in boxes, ready for the move my family is doing at the end of this year, so I have completely no references ... well, except the Internet, but Elluxion's a very lazy author. (If I can be deemed an author, LOL) I really should get a beta-reader ... 

As for a reviewer who mentioned she liked my layout, thankies! *huggles* It's original, at least ... LOL and the text is aligned by a table. I worked hard on it. :P 

I also wanted to say that working on HP fics isn't easy for me. I keep running into minor writer's blocks - although a few hours' break from the computer can break through them. I'm rather worried on this part, since, heck, this is only the second chapter! *shudders* I wonder what on earth will happen when I reach the climax ... hopefully not a major writer's block! *quivers in fright* Ahhhhhhh ... 

I'll shut up now before my A/N gets longer than my fic ... REVIEW, onegai! *huggles to all again* 

Hugs and cookies,  
Elluxion 


	4. Poison in the Night

**Carcrashes  
Chapter Three: Posion in the Night  
Written by Elluxion  
**

* * *

*grins* I thought of a reason to explain for the drama of the last chapter! Hermione's a witch with Muggle parents, right? So she's touchy about the idea of Voldemort. Her whole life she's been trying to prove that she's stronger and better than what everyone thinks of her, and to see some other idiot who doesn't realize that he _is_ better and more determined than what he and others think of himself really annoys her, which is why she got all passionate. :D 

Fine, that was rubbish ... I know. ;_; Forgive me! I'm in a pretty foul mood. ;) Yes, Muggles, run and hide! 

On a seriouser note, this chapter is dedicated to **Dr Megalomania.** (If you look up megalomania in the dictionary, you should have a good laugh. I know I did. And DrM is so _not_ a megalomaniac. :P) DrM's beautiful Card Captor Sakura fics were an endless source of inspiration, and the way she continues to write, despite flames, negative reviews, and doing what she wants regardless of whatever anyone thinks really amazes me. DrM's not a HP writer, but she's one of the best CCS writers around (400 reviews is good proof, ne?) and her regular checking in on me and her constant reviews on my silly little fanfics always keeps my spirit up. If you happen to be reading this, HUGS and a huge THANK YOU! 

Hugs and cookies,  
Elluxion 

* * *

_"If you're trying to turn me into something else, I've seen it enough and I'm over that. I'm nobody's fool."_

  


-Avril Lavigne, _Nobody's Fool_

* * *

Hermione shivered and drew her robes closer to her. She had tried to keep them in mint condition, but the night's wild chase after that elusive shadow had her robes ripped and the threads snagged in a million places. It was cold, very cold, and the merry noise of Hogwarts Christmas Ball had long faded away. 

_Faster, faster!_ She urged herself, pushing her limits aside and forging on, ignoring her body's cries to stop and take a rest. That Malfoy had stamina, she had to admit, despite the obvious absence of brains. 

Suddenly the figure in front of her pulled to a stop, drawing the hood of his dress robes over his head, covering his striking silverish-golden mop of hair. He didn't seem to be out of breath at all. Hermione skidded across the ground, snow spewing silently in all places, and nearly fell onto her palms as the Death Eater crept into the trees of a forest fluidly, making hardly a sound as he left being footprints that would later be swept away by winds. A snowstorm was threatening as dark clouds brew and rumbled ominously over the sky. 

"_Lumos,_" Hermione whispered to her wand, her heard thudding painfully against her ribcage. Sweat trickled down her face as the tip of her wand threw enough light to see for at least three feet around her. The witch carefully stepped in Draco's bigger footprints, making sure not to disturb any branches that would give her away. He turned back once, suspiciously, but Hermione's petite figure and the nifty little charm that she had conjured beforehand which shrouded her in shadows allowed her to blend into the trees quite well. She wished she could conceal the slight aura still emaneating from her robes, though. It was proving to be quite striking against the darkness. 

"Master," she heard someone murmur, and she quickened her footsteps, chiding herself. _Am I crazy? Insane? He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named - okay, fine, Voldemort - isn't a big fan of Muggle-descent people like me. He'll kill me on the stop._ And yet her curiosity was overpowering. _How can he be back? Why is Draco working for him? Who else is working for him? What is he planning?_ She knew that the information she gleaned from that confrontation would be very valuable to the Ministry of Magic, and the thirst to prove herself to be more than what she was seemed powerful. 

"Yes, Malfoy." She caught a hiss. Hermione ducked into the dense undergrowth of some evergreens and waited, her blood humming in her ears. An owl broke free of the tree above her, screeching as it lifted into the air, and she barely flinched. After eight years of teaching at Hogwarts and seven years of learning in it, she was accustomed to the sudden, ear-splitting shrieks. 

Slowly, ever so slowly, and thanking her genes that she had inherieted her mother's thick dark hair, Hermione raised her head over the bush she was crouching in. Her breath caught in her throat. 

For about ten men and three women were forming a perfect circle. Their robes rustled in the frigid breeze, but otherwise all was deathly still and silent. Draco, marked by the dress robes he donned, darted easily into a break in the circle, directly opposite from Hermione's hiding place. "I'm sorry, Master," he said softly, wind catching and playing with his words. "I was at Hogwarts' Christmas Ball." 

"Keeping up appearances?" a voice rasped, coming from everywhere and yet nowhere at once. One of the black-cloaked figures moved, pale white hands moving to take down the hood. "Good job, Malfoy." Hermione kept her eyes on the moving figure and the scarred hands. Voldemort, the Dark Lord, the one wizard that everyone feared ... and she was standing barely ten feet away from him. The hood was shaken back to reveal a revolting face that was chalk white against the inky darkness behind him. Blood-red eyes blinked once, and a snake-like nose lifted and sniffed the air. 

"I sense a Mudblood," he said softly. 

Hermione froze, not daring to breathe or stir a hair for fear of discovery. Draco glanced up and somehow locked his gaze on hers, sensing her, seeing the dark eyes that were almost - _almost_ - invisible against the branches and leaves. But he saw her, and she saw his eyes mirror the horror and fear she knew was in hers. 

"I don't, Master," spoke up a female. All eyes went towards her - all eyes save Draco's. "Perhaps it is just the stench from far off, carried here by the winds, winds of forseen ill will and bad news." The way she spoke, lilting and poetic, almost hypnotizing, showed her to be a proper seer of the future. 

"Perhaps you are right, Chang." 

_Cho Chang?!_ Hermione wanted to scream. Cho was a perfectly respectable Ravenclaw in their schooldays, a girl that Harry once used to like, a pleasant, pretty witch known for her diplomatic skills and strong powers. In the last days of their seventh-year, Cho had showed some signs that she was a seer, and Hermione had wished her luck in her future endeavours. What the hell was she doing in a circle of Death Eaters? 

"I have gathered you today to tell you about my plans for the upcoming war." Voldemort spoke, and everyone paid attention, but no one more so than Hermione. Her eyes flicked from Draco's startled grey ones to Voldemort's calm black ones. "Chang will steal the Starflower Mirror," he added at length, after discribing the different raids that would take place. "For those unsure of what the Starflower Mirror is, it's a mirror that reflects any curse, no matter how strong, intense, or powerful. It's not a well-known mirror - in fact, I doubt that anyone knows about it, but it looks innocent and although it's pretty big, it can be easily moved. Position one carefully and a simple curse can be reflected and magnified to kill a whole room of people." 

"It will be my honor, Darkest Lord of all," mumured Cho. 

He paused meaningfully and continued. "We will be sending envoys, lesser Death Eaters, to the giants, trolls, and goblins. Perhaps the Veela and other exotic creatures. We have to gain their alliance and acceptance. The Ministry will never know until we are done, and they cannot stand against us all. Which explains the need to be _fast_ and _quiet_." He directed the last two scathing, emphasized remarks to two hulking forms - Crabbe and Goyle, Hermione assumed. 

"Of course, one of you ... " Voldemort hesitated, and his eyes lit on Draco. "Malfoy. You will be in charge of getting into Azkaban undetected and alone. Set the prisoned Death Eaters and anyone else you think would help us free. The Dementors will follow you." 

"Of course, Master." Draco inclined his head gracefully. 

"I trust that you will do a good choice." 

"That is a requirement, Master." 

"The Malfoys have served me well over the years." Voldemort studied Draco. "You're a young man, and you have proven yourself to be as efficient and brutal as your fallen father. Well done, Malfoy. Keep it up. I place my faith in you and Chang most. Live up to that faith." 

"Thank you, Master, and certainly," said Draco emotionlessly, smoothly. 

Hermione stiffened, catching Draco's gaze again. This time Hermione's own gaze was cold and empty. _Efficient and brutal? You worm._

Draco shot a look back, a pleading one. _I had no choice._

Hermione's eyes hardened even further. _We've talked about this, Malfoy,_ she thought furiously. _You always have choices._

Voldemort gave Draco another piercing stare, and continued on, talking about deaths, bloodshed, waged battles without a single emotion crossing his face. No remorse. No regret. No fear. Just a matter-of-fact tone of voice, going on and on like poison in the night. 

Hermione was openly disgusted as he talked of all the important wizarding families of their magical reality. He talked of the Unforgivable Curses, of killing them gruesomely, of keeping them quiet for eternity, of unmentionable deeds. After hours, almost at moonset, Voldemort was done, having assigned all the Death Eaters various tasks and jobs. Nothing, he cautioned again, was to be done until January the first. Preparations should ensue, but the actual undertaking of something was to be done over a span of two weeks - until January the fourteenth. 

"I should teach you a curse," Voldemort finished. "A curse of extreme pain and eventual death. This might come in handy." 

Catching sight of the owl returning to its roost over Hermione's head, claws tightened over a writhing rabbit, Voldemort allowed a smile to touch his lips. "_Stupefy!_" he called out. The stream of light struck the owl, and it lost its grip on the pristine-white rabbit, wheeling away into the sky and branches reaching out. 

The rabbit tumbled to the grown, ears twitching frightfully. Voldemort aimed the wand at it and muttered, "_Engorgio_." 

The vulnerable animal grew to the size of a small deer. 

"_Brekcious._" 

The snapping of bones was like a grotesque wind-chime. Slowly, painfully, every bone in the rabbit's body shattered systematically - from the hind legs up. It scrabbled in the snow frantically, and when its back legs were disabled, the rabbit pulled itself foward with its front paws, letting out squeal after squeal. Neatly, all the bones in its rib cage broke at once, and the rabbit fell into the snow, giving an unholy howl. Then the neck bones snapped and its head lolled to one side, tongue hanging out, the fire in its eyes snuffed out. And as a finishing touch, its skull cracked open into two. They could all see the physical deformation of the rabbit - skin jutted out as a result of all the broken bones. 

"You may leave," instructed Voldemort. An admiring murmur swept through the circle as the Death Eaters began to drift off in ones and twos. Voldemort himself Apparated and dissipated into the night. And after ten minutes of staring, pointing, and excited whispers, all the other Death Eaters had departed the clearing and most likely the forest, leaving only Draco behind. 

Hermione stumbled out of her place in the undergrowth and leant over, retching, silent tears skating down her cheeks. "Oh, my God," she shoved out, trying to regain control of herself. 

Draco walked over and automatically patted her back, trying to sooth the silently sobbing witch. "I'm sorry you had to see that," he said quietly. 

Hermione spun and gave him a stinging slap over the face. "You idiot! You see the devil you're working for! That son of a - " she caught side of the deformed rabbit and turned, retching once again, stumbling and nearly falling into the ice and snow. 

"I know," he said again. "And that's what he'll do to me if I betray him." 

"If I were you ... " Hermione turned meaningfully, her entire body shaking. "I would rather go through that than see my best friends die that way." 

Draco didn't speak for a while. After a few heartbeats of silence, he said, "I know he talked about Harry Potter and Ron Weasley." 

"He talked about how to kill all the Weasleys," said Hermione tightly. "How to murder Ginny - _Ginny!_ A girl, hardly an adult!" 

"I know." 

"Is that all you know how to say?" demanded Hermione, staring at Draco. He refused to meet her gaze, knowing that he'd break down if he did. 

"Malfoy." 

Draco seemed to find the snowflakes spiralling down between them fascinating. 

"Draco Malfoy, I find you a disgusting worm and a complete git to be working for Voldemort. I hate that you don't want to change that." 

Draco stared out into the night. "I _do_ want to change it, Hermione. I just don't know how." 

Hermione wasn't in front of him any longer. She knelt over the rabbit, her body racked with sobs, and she reached out a trembling hand to run over the bumps in its skin. Fighting to overcome her fear of what the rabbit had become, Hermione picked it up, nearly kneeling over with its weight. She set it down behind a tree, and using her glove-covered hands, started to silently throw snow over it until it was fully covered. 

"Malfoy," she said evenly, standing in front of him. "Where are you going to be on January the first?" 

Draco was quiet, leading the way out of the forest. It was then he made a decision that would probably cost him his life. Hermione could just catch the hushed word. 

"Azkaban." 

* * *

Maybe Draco's planning on ignoring Hermione? Or is he staging a revolt? 

I hate cheesy questions like that ... when authors do it .... it ruins the suspense. :P 

Well ... tired ... and more interested in chatting on MSN (FINALLY! :D) than tapping out an author's note that no one ever reads. :P *huggles* and REVIEW! 

Hugs and cookies,  
Elluxion 

* * *


	5. Song of the Seer

**Carcrashes  
Chapter Four: Song of the Seer  
Written by Elluxion  
**

* * *

A very little detour from the plotline so far (half the length of my usual chapters) - this is a write-up of Cho Chang. 

Why did I make her a Death Eater, and a loyal one at that? 

Personally, I wasn't really thinking about it. I just thought that it'd be an interesting twist, and would add a personal angle to the story. I've always liked Cho - being a female Seeker and a Ravenclaw (my favourite house) and all :P - so I wanted to write her in. But a little question from Rie or IceFrozen set me thinking: why? Why Cho? 

I honestly have no answer to that. Most likely it's because Cho was such a mysterious character, and I wanted to build the mystery and suspense around her. Making such a 'good' character - Seeker, Ravenclaw, pretty, popular, smart, kind - into a Death Eater is oddly satisfying. 

Don't get me wrong, I love Cho, but it's just a way for me to get over my writer's blocks about Draco and Hermione! :P And since there hasn't been a proper description of Cho, I'll make up my own, apologies if I've ruffled any feathers. 

Psst, if you ever feel the need to flame me, or yell at me, or generally bash me over the head for some terrible injustice I've done to Ms JK Rowling (who incidentally owns all the wizarding world), drop me a line at **rosefire_spirit@hotmail.com**. 

Aaaand ... yes, one last thing ... this chapter is dedicated to the mysterious **Yazmyn.** *grin* Although I haven't talked to you much, I'm glad to have known you (for three lines of chat or so) and I'd love to know you even further. ;) 

Hugs and cookies,  
Elluxion 

P.S. I absolutely love that song from Coldplay. 

* * *

_"Nobody said it was easy ... nobody said it was so hard."_

  


-Coldplay, _The Scientist_

* * *

Cho Chang surveyed herself in the mirror, enclosed in the privacy of the Ravenclaw girls' dormitory. Graduation had commenced the night before, and she was supposed to be gathering last-minute things that had escaped her memory, and put those forgotten items into her trunk. 

A tall girl, with highlights of golden mixed in a head of brown hair that fell softly to her shoulders stared back at her, with the same serious striking violet eyes shielded by long eyelashes. Those eyelashes, so long and mysterious, were the envy of every Ravenclaw girl who saw them. 

If anyone had been looking over her shoulder, they would have been struck at her unnatural beauty which had blossomed over the years. She had grown gracefully, without a hitch, into womanhood. But all Cho saw was a very young, plain girl, seventeen, and very confused. She knew she was, in all, a lucky girl. She had loving parents, faithful friends, and enough money stored to start up her own small business. But the problem was simply this: she had no idea where her interests lay. Yes, she loved Quidditch, liked the honor she felt from playing for Ravenclaw, and although she was a deft, swift player that rarely made mistakes, Cho knew that she was merely a good Seeker, perhaps among the best, in school standard. She was not exceptional. Nothing set her apart from, say, Draco Malfoy, an equally competent Seeker from Slytherin. She could never play Seeker for England, and she knew that fact well. 

What were her other interests, then? 

Reading, she supposed. A spot of craftwork, nothing serious. Dabbling in charms, experimentation done on a rainy day. In truth, Cho was an all-rounder without many hobbies. She didn't know what turn her life would take once she stepped out of Hogwarts doors that afternoon - perhaps the last time she would ever do so. 

_And yet ..._

She had unearthed abilities, a handful of weeks before the school year ended. Strange dreams, peppered with warnings and forebodings. Shadowy creatures and whispers of danger when she concentrated on a mirror, or window, or a puddle of water. Cho knew enough to confront these strange findings bravely. She knew enough to deduct that she was a seer of the future - or at least well on the way to being one. 

The incidents had been small, but the day before Dean Thomas broke his ankle, she had known - and she had seen the accident. It was the night before, where she'd had that dream, a mere whisper of what was to occur the next day. She hadn't taken it seriously, hadn't wanted to, but Dean had, indeed, slipped on plate of unseen ice and had taken a bad fall which had landed him in the hospital wing. 

No, Cho was not afraid of the fact that she was a seer. She only feared the worst - that she could only forsee the bad side of the future, that she couldn't tell the goodness that would come later on in life. Which would not be good at all. 

It would make her a dark seer. 

Padma Patil poked her head into the room, startling Cho out of her thoughts. "Cho - the carriages are here. You'd better finish up, 'kay?" 

"I know," Cho mumbled a reply. "Thanks, Padma." 

~*~ 

Then, three years later, Cho met Jonathon Fawkson. 

Cho was working as a waitress at The Three Broomsticks. She knew that her education merited a more high-paying job, but at the moment she was content with what she had. Working at The Three Broomsticks allowed her to meet people from all walks of life, and she enjoyed her interaction with the customers. She knew she drew low pay, but that pay was more than enough to accomodate her lifestyle in a rented, tiny cottage, off the road just two blocks away. After all, she supported only herself, her owl, and her collie. 

After she began her work as a waitress, the male number of customers shot through the roof. 

Jonathon had swept her off her feet the moment he stepped in. A tall man with striking looks and an arresting pair of brilliant blue eyes, Jonathon drew attention, and he'd drawn Cho's. Seemingly interested in her, they started dating. Cho fell in love, a thing she had not allowed herself to do since Cedric Diggory's death. 

Then one summer night, Jonathon Fawkson proposed to her. Cho agreed on the spot, happily, finding direction in her life at last. But there was one thing she didn't know about Jonathon. 

He was a Death Eater. 

Jonathon tried to hide it from her - knowing that Cho would shun him, would break up with him, however painful it might be. Cho had strong values, and she would do the right thing, no matter how much it hurt. Cho might even attempt to kill him or turn him in to Azkaban. She had powerful grounding in what was right and what was wrong; she drew a clear line between black and white. 

And Cho did the unthinkable. She told him, eyes searching his own, that she was a dark seer, a seer that could only fortell the unfortunate and the unlucky. Accepting it, Jonathon, in turn, told her about his fiercely-guarded secret, preparing for the worst. 

Cho had hugged him, had told him gently that she loved him too much to do anything to him, had mentioned that she was no better. 

Two years down the road. They lived happily. Cho turned a blind eye to Jonathon's meetings with Voldemort, only cautioning him to be careful, trying to gently steer him away from the path he had agreed to tread. It didn't work. Finally there came a night when she saw him practicing a curse fabricated by nightmares. She tried it out herself, amid vehement protests from Jonathon. It was merely a tiny curse, nothing much more than a Stunner. 

The dark energy embraced her, tying itself to her blacker nature as a seer of death and pain. Its lure was irresistable and inextricable. Another two years passed, and Cho became a master of the Dark Arts. She never used it to kill, although it was tempting. But she loved the power, and the energy had found a place where it could assert itself. She joined the Death Eaters, knowing that there was much more scope for experimentation and creation. She had never meant to kill, or to even hurt. She just wanted to push herself; to see how far she could go. 

One night she had a nightmare, and had woken up screaming piercingly into the night. Jonathon gathered her into his arms, rocking her, telling her it was merely a nightmare. In his heart he knew otherwise. His wife was a seer of destruction, after all. 

Cho told him, her voice trembling. The dream had been unclear and foggy, but its purpose had been clear. 

Jonathon would die. 

Her dream came true, no matter how hard she tried to prevent it. Jonathon met his end, precisely three days after that warning. His killer was an Auror, a protector of the light and good. 

Cho locked away the grief in her. She invented darker and darker hexes as a result, all gruesome and horrifying and painful and killing - literally. She never used them, but Voldemort had been delighted with her creations. She taught him whatever she could cough up and think of. Her mind was twisted, and Cho's loving and giving nature was altered overnight. 

Voldemort favoured her above all. Being a Seeker, Cho had natural stealth and speed; she knew how to be discreet, how to carry herself slowly and carefully and quietly on a mission, how to react instantly to danger. Voldemort had caught these instincts earlier and had marked her for anything to do with stealing or killing without kicking up a fuss. 

Her old interactions with her customers at The Three Broomsticks aided her as well. Cho Chang knew how to deal with situations, how to talk her way out of suspicion. Two years later, Cho was well-known among all the Death Eaters as a smooth killer, completely devoid of emotion. A mind that worked well and a heart that was cold was a lethal combination, and Voldemort knew that perfectly. 

At twenty-five, Draco Malfoy joined the ranks, and the Malfoys' reputation skyrocketed. Lucius Malfoy had bowed out of the active Death Eaters gracefully, age catching up with him. But Draco was proving himself to be as efficient and as deadly as Cho and his father alike. Draco had a fast mind and sharp reflexes. Being a Seeker had helped in bringing out those instincts. One thing that Voldemort didn't like was that Draco rarely killed, but Draco appeased him by bringing him victims at the brink of painless death; death from potions craftily concocted. Draco didn't like torture. He preferred drawing answers out in casual, seemingly innocent conversation. It put the victims less on edge, he always maintained. It drastically dropped suspision and tenseness. 

Voldemort had to agree. Draco and Cho were a formidable pair of Death Eaters, although it had taken Draco one short year to prove so and Cho two as an active Death Eater. Voldemort liked the two, liked the coldness they both exuded, liked their minds and instincts and above all their strength of character. Cho's seeing abilities often came into play and those warnings had aided Voldemort a lot. Draco, being a Malfoy, obviously had excellent connections, and his amazing skills to extricate valuable information always impressed the Dark Lord. 

~*~ 

Cho Chang studied herself in the mirror, now in the eerie silence of her cottage. She had gotten rid of her collie, and her owl was locked up and quietened with a simple curse. To herself, she was the same. It was simply that she had grown taller by a couple of inches, and her figure was more assured. But there were many changes if an onlooker had been very alert. Her eyes were harder, a shade darker. Her hair was no longer playfully silky, it was purposely tousled so she appeared seductive. She rarely smiled. Her eyes didn't sparkle any more, and she never, ever laughed. 

Cho was different, the grip of darkness tightly on her. 

But as a tear rolled down her cheek, it appeared that she wasn't so tough after all. 

* * *

A little shorter than usual, deviated from the topic, but I had had HAD to get that out of my system. Heh, and sorry for the long a/n's, I know that they're like, 75 % of the fanfic. 

*sigh* 

And I was planning on writing personal notes to all my reviewers, too. Apparently my A/N's are too long. I swear, I love and appreciate you people, but I'll have to push the notes to the next chapter (where I will hopefully get new reviewers. :P) I'll hafta murder my A/N's for that, but I deserve it! :P 

Before you chuck me into the garbage bin bound and gagged, I have one word to yell. REVIEEEEW! 

*minutes before posting this on ff.net* GUYS! I forgot to apologize for the spate of horror last chappie! It just popped out for me. --; I used to write horror, and I used to have very gruesome stuff, and I'd wanted to step over that, but apparently it sneaked up on me ... *sigh* I'll try to keep it under "constant vigilance" (thank you for the warning, Moody) from now on :P. 

Hugs and cookies,  
Elluxion 

* * *


	6. The Weasleys

**Carcrashes  
Chapter Five: The Weasleys (*cringe* How unoriginal x_x;)  
Written by Elluxion  
**

* * *

Read the story and please leave some constructive criticsm! 

Some Harry/Ginny, I put that there because it would further annoy Rie (whom I know wants me to write a Ron/Hermione fic... :P) and it would infuriate my cousin. (Ying murdered me over the weekend with killing blows from a pillow... all I did was innocently hint that I might add a tinge of Harry/Ginny into _Carcrashes_!) 

Dedicated to the fantabulous **Marionette**. I beta for her and I can tell you confidently that she's the best Hermione/Draco writer around. Mari, I'd dedicate an earlier chapter to you, but I was actually saving it up for my take on _One Last Stand_ (a brilliant fic of Marionette's, I wanted to write my own versh - with permission form Mari, of course.). Right now almost five different variations of _One Last Stand_ is resting on top of each other in my trash can... looks like that fic'll never see the light of day. :P So this chapter's allll for you and the gorgeous fics you let me sample, thanks for being a constant source of inspiration, a great friend, and a terrific writer to boot! ;) 

Hugs and cookies,  
Elluxion 

* * *

_"Some things can never be replaced... some things are with me for always."_

  


-Five, _When I Remember When_

* * *

Mists formed swiftly in front of their noses and dissipated just as quickly as Harry and Ginny Potter laughed in the winter air. It was December 29th - one more year into their marriage. Christmas was over, and a restful, yet slightly festive air had come over the young couple. New Year was approaching, and Harry looked forward to another year of dreams fulfilled, promises kept, serects shared... and another three hundred and sixty-five days (he hoped) of Ginny's presence. 

Harry had proposed when he was twenty-four, working as a professional Quidditch player - a Seeker, to be exact. He was getting closer to national standard, and he knew that he had a stable and fruitful career ahead of him. Ginny was twenty-three, a Ministry witch that was making her debut in society. Ginny had agreed almost before Harry had finished speaking. The two had begun dating when Harry was seventeen and Ginny was in her sixth year. 

"Give Gin a chance," he remembered Ron and Hermione urging him. Harry had known that Ginny was a pretty girl with a charming personality, but their schedules were starkly different and they hadn't really sat down and talked. Harry had known that Ginny still fancied him - although in a casual, not-so-serious sort of way. After all, Ginny had her own admirers to entertain. 

Then Harry had worked up the nerve to ask her out. Within one month, Virginia Weasley and Harry Potter were completely smitten with each other. 

"Contemplating some profoundly deep fact of life?" 

"Eh?" Harry shook himself out of his reverie. Ginny was looking at him with an impish smile on her lips and a teasing twinkle in her eyes. "A fact that you wouldn't want to share with me?" 

"I share everything with you, Gin." Harry tapped the redhead on her nose. Ginny was almost as tall as Harry, with a lean frame and auburn hair cut to a stylish bob. Favouring casual clothing, the green-eyed young woman wasn't beautiful in the strict sense of the word, but she was eye-catching and pretty in her own right. Ginny had a certain, honest air about her. If you made her acquaintance, you would find her easy to confide in and good to depend on. Her virtues made her a competent and popular Ministry witch. 

Harry himself? Tall, well-built but not heavy, Harry still had the same mop of messy black hair that endeared him to all. He attracted attention as well. Harry was pleasant to look at, but his good looks weren't the reason why so many people were captivated by his gaze. No, it was Harry's eyes, mirroring the ordeals he had to endure, intense, yet lightened by an irrepressible sense of mischief and the love he had for Ginny. A mish-mash of pain and joy, Harry's dark eyes were calm and unfaltering in their gaze, remarkable for a man that could be killed at any moment. 

"I should hope so, Mr. Potter." Ginny tossed her head and rapped on the door of the Weasleys' home. Harry had been so caught up in his thoughts that he hadn't noticed that they had trodden the familiar path to the small, but welcoming, house. 

Molly Weasley opened the door. As her sharp emerald eyes flickered over Harry and Ginny, her face brightened and she caught first Ginny, then Harry into a hug. "Good to see you again, dears! We thought you were arriving tomorrow!" 

"Wonderful to see you too, Mrs. Weasley," Harry told her with a smile. "We just thought that we'd give you a surprise and come a little earlier." 

"Hi, Mom," Ginny greeted, hugging her mother again, eyes sparkling. 

Molly pulled them both into the foyer and shut the door. "You really should have waited until tomorrow or owled us," she fretted. "We'd have gone and picked you up from the weeping willow. You'll catch your death of cold." 

Harry inclined his head towards the window. Through the glistening, clear pane, a huge tree with sweeping branches was evident, although far in the distance. "It's not that far, Mrs. Weasley. I enjoy a good walk." 

"What did you do with the Portkey?" asked Molly distractedly as she busied herself with the business of hanging up or folding and putting away Harry's and Ginny's coats, mufflers, scarfs, and all sorts of winter clothing. (_A/N: Bear with me here, we don't get the four seasons in Singapore and I've only seen snow once and it was only for one day, so my season descriptions may be a bit off._) 

"We hid it in the roots, Mom, in a fox's abandoned hole," assured Ginny. "I magicked it so that it can be used twice," Harry added. 

"Did you ask the Ministry's permission before tampering with a magical object?" Molly led them further into the house, into the kitchen. 

"Yes." Harry grinned. 

"Who did you clear it with?" 

Ginny winked. "Me." 

Molly chuckled as she bustled around the kitchen. Harry and Ginny seated themselves at the table. Giving her wand an annoyed shake, nine cups assembled themselves neatly near the sink with the briskness of an army squad, which Harry thought was fairly amusing. Molly gave her wand another sweep, and a jug hovered above each cup, filling it up with hot chocolate. A drawer shuddered open and slammed shut in the next heartbeat. Nine spoons floated uncertainly around a small container. 

Molly paused. 

"Sugar for you, Harry dear?" 

"Yes, please, just a dash," Harry said patiently. Molly nodded. Seven spoons dove into the container and came up with different amounts of sugar, and the unused, remaining two returned to the drawer with an indigant clatter. 

"Arthur and I like a lot of sugar, Bill and Charlie don't at all, Fred, George, and now you like just a little, Ron and Ginny like a moderate amount," explained Molly in one breath. 

"Spiffy memory, Mom," remarked Ginny warmly. 

"Speaking of the family... where are they?" Harry inquired politely. He watched, wide-eyed, as the spoons selected particular mugs and plunged themselves quite happily into them. 

"Oi, Harry! Ginny!" 

Harry turned, recognizing the voice even before the first syllable had left his lips. Ron Weasley grinned at him from across the kitchen and Harry returned the boyish smile. "Hey, Ron!" he greeted happily. Ron collapsed onto a chair next to Harry after reaching over to give Ginny a quick hug. 

"Haven't seen you since the Hogwarts Ball," commented Harry flippantly. "Anything new?" 

Ron fished around and came up blank. "No, nothing much." Ron had hardly changed since his days at Hogwarts save to shoot up. A familiar smattering of freckles still adorned his cheeks, and he still had unruly red hair and the same green eyes as the rest of the Weasleys. Ron towered over nearly all of them, and he was still pale regardless of how much time he spent in the sun. An easygoing man, with the same witty, yet warm, sense of humor. Ron hadn't hardened at all, even if he assisted Charlie in working with dragons. He still viewed life through a mist of rosy innocence, and Harry admired him for it. 

Molly distributed the mugs of hot chocolate and they thanked her. She sat and they sipped at the soothing drink... a blissful silence filled the air. 

"Fred and George, they're working on that joke shop of theirs, but they'll be back soon. Charlie's somewhere in the house. Arthur and Bill are at work." Molly sighed. "Ever since that clock broke down... I never know where everyone is, and that causes problems... Sometimes I get a bit worried if they work late and their owls haven't reached me yet," Molly admitted. 

"A _bit_?!" repeated Ron incredulously. 

At that moment, Charlie emerged from the direction of the bathroom, his hair wet and tousled. A towel was draped across his shoulders. "Hey, Harry!" He stepped over, footsteps assured and confident. Harry shook hands with him. Charlie ruffled the hair of his baby sister with a grin. "Nice to have you back, even if it's for a little while, Gin. Honestly, Harry's a bit selfish, he wants you all to himself and you come home too seldom," teased the elder Weasley. 

"Where's Althea?" Harry wanted to know the whereabouts of Charlie's wife after hitting him playfully in the arm. 

"With _her_ parents, visiting for Christmas. Eleanor and Sarah as well," he added, anticipating Harry's next question about Fred and Bill's wives respectively. Ron and George were still left unattached, although the latter was dating a girl. 

It was a cheery hour when the rest of the Weasleys save Arthur returned home and found Harry and Ginny there. In the midst of their laughter and talking, something struck Ginny, a poignant understanding and realization. Quietly, she stemmed her flow of conversation, lasping into silence. 

"What's wrong, Ginny?" asked Harry softly, noticing her stillness. 

"It's Percy." Ginny raised tear-filled eyes to his. "I was just thinking that he should be here, sharing this moment with us. He should be here, talking and laughing and making those ridiculous, pompous remarks. He didn't deserve to die, Harry, he didn't." 

"You all don't deserve to die," said Harry quietly. "Nobody deserves to die." 

"You're wrong. You-Know-Who - he deserves to die. Those foul Death Eaters - those traitors, working in the Ministry... they all shouldn't have the priviledge to live." 

The front door slammed open. Molly quickly blinked her tears away as she went out of the kitchen to greet her husband. The kitchen was quiet, with a few whispers and mumurs, and Ron vehemently agreeing with Ginny. There was more than one person that was teary. Although Percy was a strange character, the absence of his presence was profound and obvious. Percy was well-loved, an irreplacable member of the family. 

Low voices reached Harry's hearing, and Molly and Arthur Weasley paused at the door. Something in their pale faces and pursed lips gave him pause, and immediately he asked, "Mr. Weasley? Mrs. Weasley? What's wrong?" 

Arthur seemed to snap out of a daze as he stared at Harry blankly. Relief dawned on his face as he studied Harry and Ginny anxiously. 

"What's wrong, Dad?" echoed Ginny. 

"Ginny... Harry... Thank God you're here," said Arthur quietly. 

"What's happened?" questioned Ron sharply. He didn't care for the tense expressions on his parents' faces. "What _happened_, Mom?" he asked again impatiently. 

"It's your house, Harry," Arthur said, staring at them both straight in the eye. Under the table, Ginny found and clutched Harry's hand. "It's... gone." 

"Gone? What do you mean, gone?" 

Arthur bit his lip. "You don't have a home any longer, Ginny, Harry," he said gently. "Death Eaters came and completely destroyed your house. Nothing can be salvaged from the ruins." 

"Hedwig!" cried Harry a little too loudly, his voice urgent. Beside him, Ginny was shaking her head slowly in utter disbelief, tears coursing down her cheeks. The home that she had worked so hard for... it was gone? Just like that - in the space of an hour? 

"We didn't find any sign of a snowy owl anywhere," said Arthur quickly. "Most likely Hedwig escaped on her own." 

"I hope she did," said Charlie awkwardly, attempting to fill in the debelieving silence. "Hedwig's pretty smart." 

"Who are the suspected Death Eaters?" asked Harry evenly, raising his chin and locking his eyes on Arthur's. 

"We don't know," said Arthur gravely. 

Harry dropped his head in his hands. 

"I have some other news." Arthur's voice seemed to strengthen. "Look at me, all of you." Harry raised his head, trying to fight back his tears. "Recently the Death Eaters have been especially active. Remember how You-Know-You got his full power back? Just a few months before? Remember how we all found it strange that he wasn't planning a return to the throne he once sat on? Well, he's planned a whole bloody _war_," Arthur spat out bitterly. "Today's reports indicate that he and his rubbish Death Eaters are returning. We don't know the exact day he will strike, but it's going to be soon. We're trying to spread the word as discreetly as we can so we don't drum up suspicion - so nothing will be talked about it in the newspapers. I suggest that you people go to your rooms and start owling everyone you know - tell them to meet you; don't mention anything about You-Know-Who or Death Eaters in case the owls are intercepted. Raise the alarm - quietly." 

With a general murmur of consent, the Weasley children and Harry stood from their chairs. Ginny was still silently crying for the loss of their home. Harry took her into his arms, whispering into her hair consolingly. "At least we weren't home, Gin, at least we're still alive. We can make sure that nobody else faces losing their home." 

Just as Bill was about to lead the way out of the kitchen, Arthur Weasley said three words that they would never forget. 

"Prepare for war." 

~*~ 

_Dear Hermione, _

We can't reveal too much in case this owl is intercepted. We've got bad news. Can you meet us at the Three Broomsticks on January 2nd? And bring Dumbledore. 

Much love,  
Harry and Ginny Potter 

~*~ 

"Draco Malfoy, you are insane." 

Hermione Granger fixed her eyes on the handsome wizard that sat opposite from her as she pushed a lock of hair impatiently out of her eyes. 

"I had to get your attention." 

"By plauging me with five owls every day?" Hermione shot back dryly. 

Draco rolled his eyes, an action decidedly immature for someone like him, but he did it anyway. "Look, I just wanted to tell you something." 

"And we have to meet at Knockturn Alley for that?" Hermione arched an eyebrow. 

"I didn't want to say it by owl... " Draco hesitated, as if deliberating what to say next. The ruse worked. Hermione leaned forward, her eyes wide, her mouth opened breathlessly. Curiosity sparked in her eyes. Giving himself a secret smile and a congratulatory pat on the back, Draco plunged on. 

As he spoke, he could see Hermione leaning closer and closer, nearly falling off her chair, eyes getting bigger and bigger. "Are you serious?!" she gasped when he finished. 

Draco glanced around the dingy, dirty bar he had chosen for them to meet. When he met Hermione's eyes again, he was taken aback at the spirit and admiration he found there. 

"Yes, I'm serious, Hermione," he said gravely. He knew better than to break eye contact. 

"But - but!" 

"I am willing to die." 

"How can you think of doing this?" She cried. 

"Why not?" shrugged Draco. "I thought over what you said, Hermione... I've always known I can take a different path. I just needed someone to tell me that. Thanks." 

She grinned at him. "Glad that I knocked some sense into that thick head of yours." 

"So will you do it? With me?" 

"What do you think?" Hermione slapped him in the arm playfully. "I'll do it." 

"You may not live, you know." 

"Oh, to heck with my life," said Hermione impatiently. "Don't chicken out, you hear?" 

"I won't, Miss Granger. So it's settled, then? We'll meet by the Whomping Willow, twelve AM, on December 31st." 

* * *

Woo! It's finally longer than usual! ;) 

Writing about the Weasleys was probably the hardest thing I have ever had to do. I kept forgetting to bring certain aspects of the Weasleys' home to life - for example, in my earlier version, Mrs. Weasley had made all nine cups of hot chocolate by hand; there was no mention of the magical clock; I forgot that they were all adults and most likely had wives... this chapter wasn't a very good one; it's just a link to the next chapter and kind of an introductory piece to darker times ahead. :D 

And my thanks to the most beautiful people on earth - you guys, the reviewers! ;) 

**Rie** - *huggles* Thanks for the constant reviews and the annoying messages for me to continue writing; you forced me to get through my writer's blocks. :P Thanks for not flaming me, either. *shiver* You can be very spitfire-ish when you feel like it. 

**Sila-chan** - Woo! Thanks for the comments on the layout, I appreciate it. ;) Hope you enjoyed the fic. And NO, you're not useless. :P *hugs* 

**Nicole** - YOU RULE! :D Absolutely love all your encouraging reviews and your brilliant e-mails, I'm soo glad to have known you. :-) 

**Marionette** - THANK YOU! *points up* I think I said enuff at the start. ;) 

**SilverDragon** - I'm glad you think it's interesting, I tried to make it as original as possible. :-) (Obviously it didn't work) 

**f0xyness39** - Thanks for pressing me to put Anonymous reviews! It got quite a few more reviewers to my fics - thanks for your comments as well. :D 

**Jen Drake** - Intriguing? I sure hope so. Thanks! :-) 

**The Elfin Child** - I hate my writing style! LOL Thanks! 

**Libertas** - *grin* I don't know how my table appeared either - lucky shot for me, perhaps? Thanks for taking the time out to read my fic! 

**Jaya** - glad you think the interchanges were okay. I'm quite the homebody so I have to imagine a lot of conversations and answers - never been the social butterfly. ;) 

**Slytherin's Angel** - I *love* your pen name. Glad that it's your first taste of a post-Hogwarts story - there're many great ones out there. :-) 

**Written Promises** - you can't glomp the story, but you can glomp the author! LOL Just kidding. I absolutely love your story, Earth Plates. Do continue, and fast! 

**StarpearL** - thankies! I tried hard to make it original, I'm glad you picked it out and mentioned it. 

**aime** - you seem like a very intelligent person who knows exactly what to say - if you have any fics I'd LOVE to read them! Thanks for your remarks; I appreciate them. 

**Enweth** - I heard you were railing at Rie because I dedicated the chappie to you... don't! LOL Finally, I drove you out of hiding. ;) Thanks for reading and reviewing! 

**Overly Eccentric** - Absolutely adore your pen name, I should adopt it as my motto. Thanks for taking the time out to read and review on my lil' fic! 

**Fruit Loop** - I've planned a lot of twists and turns... continue reading! ;) 

**beefywpac** - Thanks! And yes, I kept writing. *grin* 

**Individualists** - Hehe, Draco and Cho! I can definitely look into that. Thanks for the suggestion! :D 

Whew! And that's all I have to say. I really do appreciate all of you... thanks for all your comments and reviews! :D *hugs* 

Hugs and cookies,  
Elluxion 


	7. Celestial Illumination

**Carcrashes  
Chapter Six: Celestial Illumination  
Written by Elluxion  
**

* * *

I took down chapter six and posted it again. The reason being was that I had completely **zero** reviews. I worked very hard on this chapter and I want to hear your comments. It's very disillusioning and discouraging for me to log on every day to find that reviews are absent. 

I know that this is unfair, but I really do count on reviews to keep me going - it's really depressing for me. Guys, even if you hate this chapter, please for God's sake, tell me why! Thanks. 

Hugs and cookies,  
Elluxion 

* * *

_"This is bound to be wild."_

  


-John Mayer, _Your Body Is A Wonderland._

* * *

"Yes, that's it. Now hook one leg over the side... right. Settle yourself in properly. Okay, good. Now grip the broom with both hands, one in front of the other... no, lean forward a bit. You're doing fine, Hermione. All right... now point the broomstick upwards at a slight angle." 

Shakily, the broomstick began to rise, wavering in the air. Hermione's face was tense, stretched taut, as it brought her about five feet off the ground. 

"Relax," Draco urged. 

"Why don't _you_ get on your broom, and then tell me to relax," Hermione snapped back, stiff and frightened. She brought the broom just a little higher, then levelled it out after she was ten feet away from the snow-studded grass. Cautiously, she brought the broom forward and back, left to right, getting used to the odd, jerking motions. Carefully she nudged it into wide, gentle, sweeping motions, feeling her body adjust. "How the hell does Harry do this, day in, day out?" she asked, but her bitterness had already given way to something that could be described as curiosity. 

Draco couldn't help but smile slightly. Hermione's look of fear had melted into one of exhilaration as she discovered the joy of flying. She was no natural, but she wielded the task of learning how to fly with admirable calmness. With a shrug, he swung a leg over his broom and kicked off smoothly. 

He was at Hermione's side in a blur, his body lithe and graceful in flight. Draco, indeed, had talent when it came to flying, and he was built for it: a lean body, long legs, the sense of balance. Languidly, he lingered in the air as the setting sun illuminated Hermione's profile. Draco watched her learn, taking note of the uncannily graceful, almost regal movements, like a dancer's. Hermione was no longer the snappish, hot-tempered Head Girl at Hogwarts: she was a young woman now, and Draco sometimes couldn't shake that thinking off. 

Nine years. It had been nine years since the word _Mudblood_ slipped past his lips at Hogwarts. The old enmity had faded away: Draco was no longer the bitter, angsty teenager eagerly searching for trouble; Hermione was no longer the awkward, tall Head Girl stumbling at nearly every step. She had conquered her temper, but the spirit and fire were still evident. It was a quality he admired in her - the steely determination to see things through to the end. 

One hour had passed, and the sun was dipping her head, near the horizon. Hermione's dark eyes looked up and captured his. She looked at ease now, and relaxed. She gave Draco a business-like nod, and spoke. 

"Let's go." 

~*~ 

The musty warmth, the dampness, the heavy silence... the Circle of Midnight's castle and stronghold brought the words _death_ and _tomb_ to mind. Which was as well, Cho Chang added to herself darkly. Which was what was going to happen there. 

She lifted her head, pushing her seer's senses out, testing for the tang of magic. Nothing was present. Cho shook her head and drew out her wand. "_Lumos_," she murmured. 

Her wand did not respond. 

No familiar surge of energy, no twang as the wand sprang to life, no mental snap that indicated a successful spell. 

_So they've really blocked off all magic,_ thought Cho angrily. _So I was right._

Cho tightened slim fingers on the staff of her weapon, legs slightly bent even while walking through the foyer, ready for battle at any time. She didn't like the silence of the place. It unnerved her. 

The Vengeance-Seekers of the Circle of Midnight did not employ magic through wands. They had artifacts of magical power instead, power that responded to need and command. Yet they were almost infamous in the darker part of the wizarding word. The Vengeance-Seekers relied on weapons, swordplay in particular, and they were against the world as they had no magical lineage. As such, they had used one of the artifacts to block off all wand magic. 

The Starflower Mirror was one of the artifacts they had. 

_Not for long._

Cho had taught herself how to advance on cat's paws, quiet, merely a shadow's passing. She moved like that now, silent and fast and deadly. She reached a door that was heavy and big: carved with strange symbols and ornate patterns. With a wry smile, Cho snapped the bolt open and shoved the door open. 

~*~ 

"Are we going in the correct direction?" Hermione asked, voice faint. She hadn't expected the dizzying speed Draco would set, or that they would have to fly nearly seventy feet above the villages, wizarding and Muggle both. 

Draco turned to look at her. "Yes," he said, giving her a quizzical look. Hermione chewed on her lower lip. She wished that her mind would quit going blank whenever he looked at her, dead in the eye, no pretense. She wished that her heart would quit giving her that annoying little tug when she saw the intenseness and purpose mirrored in those grey eyes. It was inconvenient, in a way. 

_All right, let's sort this out._ Hermione turned the matter over in her head. She confessed that, yes, Draco Malfoy was physically attractive. The calm yet determined grey eyes, the tall frame, the silken head of silver-blond hair... it was thus rational that she would feel attracted, yet nervous, when he gave her that soulful gaze of his. 

He wasn't the only man who had made her feel that way. Once upon a time, Ron Weasley had, too. So had Viktor Krum. And sometimes she chanced upon a stranger that made her feel that way too, a little infatuation, quickly forgotten, rarely remembered. 

They only had to fly a short distance to Azkaban. Most of the distance was in truth, the ocean, and they were heading for the beach. The twinkling lights below were entrancing and beautiful, and Hermione appreciated the sight, although she was slightly queasy. 

As a result, she kept her head straight up and eyes ahead most of the time. Which was why she failed to notice when the land had finally given way to water. 

She was still flying unconcernedly, assuming that they were still speeding over towns and cities. Draco shook his head and brought his broom close to hers, to warn her that they were flying over water, and even then, she didn't notice him. He understood. It was cold, up there, and he himself was numb. Gently he laid a hand on Hermione's arm. 

He was startled at her reaction. Immediately, she snatched her arm away from his grasp. Even as she turned, one hand groped around in her robes and brought up her wand, aiming it at him, and a spell was half muttered before Draco lashed out and gripped her wrist, nearly knocking the wand from her grasp. 

Her chocolate eyes widened as she stared at him. "Oh, I'm sorry, Draco," she said weakly. "I'm... I'm on edge, I guess... your hand was cold, and I just assumed... I mean... I - " 

"It's okay," Draco said quickly. Hermione was staring at something. He followed her gaze and realized that her eyes were locked on his hand. He released her wrist, a flash of embarrassment showing in his eyes. "Sorry," she said again, simply. 

"I understand." She was nervous. Realization broke upon Draco - and _scared_. Hermione was a courageous woman to have travelled so far with him, to have trusted him with her life, to have agreed to take up the task he had offered. But she was still frightened at what she would find there. 

"Don't be scared," he said in a low voice, searching the expressive dark eyes and finding tears. A searing streak of guilt reached his heart. "I promise you that I'll try to get us out of there alive." 

She smiled at him, eyes still brimming with tears - of what? Hermione herself didn't know. Perhaps it was her deeply-rooted fear, or the pressure, or the shock Draco had dealt to her with that one simple gesture. She had acknowledged that she was stressed and anxious and on edge, but it hadn't make her feel better - not like how Draco's words had. "I intend to get out alive, thank you," she told Draco firmly. Resolve strengthened her face. 

Laughter sparkled in his grey eyes. Hermione thought that was better than a smile, because she knew that the laughter was sincere and from the heart. 

"I just wanted to tell you that we're flying over the sea now." Then he veered away from her, and pulled ahead slightly to lead the way. 

Hermione tried to conquer her fear and scanned the sea below - a cold, pale grey. The waves were calm and small, serene as they blinked up at her. A salty sea breeze tousled Hermione's hair, pulling it away from her face. The rising and falling of the waves, the breaking of the tide against the seashore, the intermittent shrieks of a seagull... it was oddly calming, like a soothing lullaby. Hermione found herself marvelling at it. 

Everything was bathed in pale moonlight, washed in the celestial illumination, given a soft, calming touch. Hermione smiled, and they flew on. 

~*~ 

"What are you doing here?" asked Robin calmly, standing up, letting the book fall from his lap and dropping into a defensive stance. The girl who had barged in ignored him, and scanned the library. Twenty-nine-year-old Robin eyed her cautiously. 

The library was a large place. Rows upon rows, shelves upon shelves, painstakingly arranged in a pentagon. The aisles were large and airy, big enough for perhaps three average-sized men to stand shoulder to shoulder. Ornamental weapons decorated the walls. The windows, situated neatly along the walls, admitted cold, beautiful moonlight. 

The moonlight washed over the girl. Robin estimated her to be in her late twenties. She was in possession of striking beauty. Her eyes were the shade of amethysts, but with a measure of wariness and a touch of coldness, and she had long eyelashes that swept her cheeks when she blinked. Her face was delicately sculpted, with clear ivory skin. She had brown hair mixed with natural highlights of blond. 

"This is the Circle of Midnight's castle," said Robin, feeling absurd. The other seven Vengeance-Seekers had moved to stand behind him, spread casually in a half-circle. "Women are not allowed in here." 

It was then Robin noticed the scythe she held loosely by her side. 

"I am here for a purpose, Robin of the Circle," she advised. She played her voice around him, hypnotizing him, entrancing him. Robin knew she was setting a trap, and he wanted to fight her voice but found with horror that he could not. Her voice had frozen him, a lilting aria. He did not question how she knew his name. Robin's mind was blank. 

She kept talking, violet eyes fixed on his. She spoke faster and faster, and her voice was weaving a spell over them all. Her voice was her weapon, and her words her magic. 

"I am Cho Chang, a seer. I am a seer of darkness and shadows. I tell horror stories. I relay messages of gore. I am a witch and I have command of magic, and yet I am half-Muggle and I have knowledge of swordplay. I am not an enemy that you want to make, Robin of the Circle. I am not a woman you want to cross." 

She paused, and Robin found that he could relax, slightly. "What - what are you doing here?" he forced out. 

She gave him a chilling smile. "I seek the Starflower Mirror, the Mirror of confusion and magnification. I would suggest that you merely pass it over to me, and no fuss will be undertaken. I would suggest, as well, that you lift the ban wand magic here." 

Almost automatically, Robin reached for the Sword of Esdrasm, resting on a table; the magical artifact he had in possession, to follow her orders. 

_What are you doing?_ an internal voice whispered at him furiously. _Are you mad?_

Robin lifted the Sword in front of him slowly. "Cho Chang, witch, user of wand. I will not permit you to take the Starflower Mirror, not now... not ever. It is one of the most powerful artifacts we own. You will have to kill us to get to it." 

She smiled. 

"Gladly." 

~*~ 

There was definitely something wrong. 

While planning the expedition, both Draco and Hermione had expected a series of echantments to bar their way to Azkaban (or out of it), which was why they had opted for flying rather than, say, sailing or even swimming. They had figured that while in the air, they could see anything coming at them from a mile off, whereas the same couldn't be said while they were on or in the sea. 

But something would be set up to stop intruders coming in from air, too. Draco was feeling uneasy. It was too quiet; nothing had approached - not even a stray owl winging back to its family. He kept half an eye on Hermione, who was ahead of him, trying to think. 

It struck him then. 

_An invisible barrier._

Certainly a barrier would be set up, preventing them from entering through air. Draco wanted to smack himself in the head for not thinking about it, then his eyes widened in alarm. 

_Hermione._

He had to share his revelations with her, and warn her to slow down. 

He heard a grunt and his head snapped up, instantly alert. Then he saw what happened. 

In front of him, Hermione's body was crouched low as she made a wild - and futile - attempt to slow her broom down. _So she's figured it out, too,_ thought Draco. The broom did slow considerably, and Hermione frantically wheeled it around. She looked up and caught Draco's gaze, helpless and desparate. 

"Hold on," Draco ordered, voice strained and tight. Hermione's knuckles were white as she gripped the broom even tighter. 

The broomtail slammed against the barrier, and a rainbow shimmer ran through the invisible shield. Hermione's body was thrown forward, slightly, jarred by the blow. She yelped, but it had not harmed her. Shaken, trembling, she floated the broom next to Draco. 

He shuddered to think of what might have happened to them if they had been going at full-speed, unaware. Cautiously, he inched forward and let a few fingers graze the surface of the barrier. The same multi-coloured sparkles washed through the shield that stretched like a dome, protecting the tiny island of Azkaban. 

"How are we going to get through that?" Hermione's voice was remarkably calm. 

Draco drew his wand out. "_Incendio!_" 

A jet of fire exploded from the the tip of his wand, driving itself right into the barrier. Draco cursed as the barrier merely absorbed the magical sprout of energy. 

"No, force won't work," Hermione said reasonably. 

"Maybe it was the spell that didn't work," Draco snapped back, his patience wearing thin. Hermione looked stung at the blow, before anger flashed in her eyes. 

"Fine, then," she said through gritted teeth. "_Meltous!_" 

Pale blue light shimmered quietly from her wand and touched the barrier. The melting spell hit the barrier, and it shuddered violently. Another splash of rainbow - and incredibly - a hole appeared from where Hermione's spell had hit. With a whoop of delight, Draco darted towards the hole - and it closed off, inches from his face. 

"The melting spell won't hold," Hermione muttered. Draco gave a quick, angered sigh. "There's a loophole in this system, Draco," she said patiently. "We've got to find out what. Getting angry won't help." 

A tense and heavy silence hung in the air, oppressive and gloomy. 

Draco watched as her face lit up. She propelled forward gently and her fingers, soft and searching, trailed across the barrier. Draco saw her back stiffen as the rainbow energy crackled around her, and she let out a hiss of pain. A jolt of fear rushed through him and he hauled her back, breaking her contact with the barrrier. 

"Are you crazy?" he asked heatedly, frightened and furious for her. "Are you trying to get yourself killed?" 

Hermione looked dazed, but she shook it off. "No, Draco. Don't you get it? The barrier will only let us through if we infuse ourselves with the same energy it contains." At Draco's confused look, she tried to explain further. "_Stupefy_," she ordered, and the yellow jet hit the barrier with much force. 

"See the rainbow light?" Hermione gestured at the barrier, which pulsed with the rainbow illumination, before quieting and reverting back to its original, invisible form. "That's the magic used to create it. We've got to make ourselves like the barrier, infuse ourselves with the same magic. Then it will let us pass. _Fight fire with fire, but with the same kind._" Hermione quoted an old wizard proverb. 

"I think I get it," Draco replied thoughtfully. "But wouldn't it mean we would have to go through a lot of pain?" 

"It will pass," Hermione said confidently. As if to prove her point, she touched the barrier again. 

The colourful twinkles formed an aura around her. Once again, Hermione stiffened, grinding her teeth. Another hiss of pain escaped her. 

Draco looked on worriedly, feeling like an older brother watching over a younger sister. Now he knew how Ron Weasley had felt when Ginny stumbled in and out of trouble. 

Then she seemed to tumble through, and her face was alight with victory as the barrier shook and parted for her. "Come through," Hermione told him - mouthed, really - her voice was very muffled. 

Draco looked at her, right into her eyes. _Trust me,_ they pleaded, unwavering in their gaze. 

He held out one hand and laid his palm directly on top of the barrier. 

~*~ 

Cho registered Robin's movements: stout, confident, graceful, but not with a lot of caution. She hefted her scythe up to meet the Sword of Esdrasm - a powerful item in its own right, but she had no interest in it that night. 

A metallic clang rang in the air, signaling the start of the battle. Robin instinctively dealt offensive blows. Cho parried his blows easily, one after the other, low, jabbing movements with the occasional sweep aimed to take her head off. Metal scraped against metal, a harsh, consistent melody. Cho did not bother to deal any attacks; it was too early for that. 

She could sense someone behind her, breathing soft and regulated. Her instincts were innately acute and made even clearer by her birthright as a seer. A smile touched her lips, her third one that night. The Vengeance-Seeker rarely played by the rules. 

With a sudden, graceful movement, she jerked around and her scythe swung smoothly as she severed the head of the Vengeance-Seeker who had tried to attack her from behind. She did not bother to watch the head hinge off his shoulders, like Nearly Headless Nick's, attached by a few pieces of trailing sinew and pure skin. 

When she whirled around, she noted that Robin's face looked indifferent. This was a man accustomed to killing, death, and gore. The blood on her scythe smeared onto his sword as they bit into each other and parted. 

She knew that Robin was the real threat; the other Vengeance-Seekers were small fry compared to his skills. A second attacker approached warily from her right. At that point, one of Robin's blows came at her face. Cho dodged the swift attack, and swept her leg out while bent in a crouch. The attacker fell down in a heap. 

She continued to dance around Robin's blows without parrying them with her scythe, her attention focused on the fallen attacker. When he attempted to get up again, fingers groping for his sabre, Cho snap-kicked at his head. Her heavy boot whacked into his face and his skull bounded off the floor. His eyes mostl of their focus then. 

Cho knew she had to kill him, or he would soon be up and attacking her again while she was fighting Robin. She raised her scythe with both hands, knowing the strength needed to perform such a maneuver. The curved portion of the blade hooked onto the Sword of Esdrasm, and she flicked it away from Robin. Robin's grip on the Sword was strong. He and his weapon were flung aside. 

Cho had bought a couple of seconds' time, but her shoulders ached as they paid the price. She bent over the Vengeance-Seeker, keeping her head hunched and neck protected, and drove the tip of her scythe into his heart. He died painlessly and cleanly. 

Something sharp swiped across her shoulder blades, bringing with it burning pain and the wet sensation of blood. Cho hissed like a wildcat, her eyes flaring, and jumped over the corpse of the dead attacker. 

Robin stood there, sneering at her as the moonlight fell over the blood dripping off the tip of his blade. 

_My blood,_ Cho thought, nearly blinded by rage. 

Adrenaline pounded through her body. She lifted herself high and ducked another one of Robin's attacks. She attacked the remaining five Vengeance-Seekers openly, not allowing them to sneak up on her. 

She rounded on the weakest of the lot, a young boy who looked about sixteen. He looked terrified but courageously raised a rapier to fend off her attacks. Cho was on edge now, furious, deadly, fuelled by skill and refined by acute senses. She killed him easily, slitting his throat. 

The next two she dispatched was a tad harder to get rid of. Robin was behind her, trying to kill her, trying to stop her before she murdered his comrades. Cho turned the scythe so that the blade faced her. She slammed the tip of the staff into Robin's ribs, knocking the breath out of him as he stumbled and collapsed into a chair, trying to regain lost oxygen. 

Of course, everything came with a price. Cho once again paid for it as one of the following two slashed a short sword down her back, criss-crossing with Robin's earlier inflicted wound. She screamed this time, not bothering to mask the pain. Leaping up, she rammed the scythe so hard through his chest that the blade cut through the skin of his back. 

She had missed his heart. 

Annoyed at herself, Cho yanked the scythe back and drove it through him again, through his heart, this time with less force. He died on her blade, her third killing that night, and she brushed him off as if he was nothing but an infuriating thorn in her side. 

The other she toyed with, slashing small but painful cuts on his body. Finally she cut a brutal circle on his abdomen, watching the blood spurt all over the place. The thin flap of skin flapped forward. He tried to contain the entrails that were slipping out, with unholy screams. 

She left him to writhe on the floor. Three more left. She turned on them, her scythe whickering through the air. She managed to sever someone's head, since she had the element of surprise. She recognized the last two as Robin's right-hand men: Daq and Julius. She heard the laboured breathing of Robin, next to her. Her own breath was sobbing, seeking air. 

She eyed them all. Killing them was possible, but she did not want to expend any more energy that night. Suddenly she wished that her best friend was next to her. Draco Malfoy would be a blessing then, being well-versed in swordplay. He would give her comfort, knowing that he was perfectly capable of defending himself and even her. 

She would kill one, Cho decided. She would kill Daq, and then she would make a run for their secret chamber, hidden away in the library. She focused on Daq, trying to ignore the pain pulsing through her. 

She raised her scythe and began attacking him, favouring high motions and sweeps. A clean killing, she decided. Take off his head. 

With a scream, she lashed forward, making sure to pin him down. She jumped into the air and landed on top of him with all the force she could muster, dragging him down by driving a punch into his face. He thrashed beneath her, but Cho would rather die than allow him to escape. 

She gripped the tip of her blade and forced it into his throat. 

Then she unfolded herself, racing towards where she knew the hidden chamber was. She tried to ignore the throb in her shoulders. 

Magic hit her, searing her from head to toe, and Cho allowed the tears to stream own her face freely. She had forgotten that the Sword of Esdrasm was capable of wielding magic as well. She stumbled, half-blinded, but continued running. 

She found the shelf that hid the chamber. Still crying with pain, biting her lower lip in an attempt to veil it, she wrenched out the book that concealed the switch to the chamber. Cho slammed her palm onto the switch, and waited impatiently as the shelf grated open. 

She turned, trying to fend off vicious attacks from Julius and Robin both. Her movements were slow, as if she was trying to move through mud. Her limbs were heavy, and it would be so tempting to just lie down... and slip into the beckoning chasm of darkness... 

_Focus, Chang!_

Cho darted in the tiny opening the shelf offered her, still in the midst of swinging open. She heard the grunts of Julius and Robin trying to squeeze in after her, and she turned her attention to the Starflower Mirror. 

There was no mistaking what it was. The room was brimming with magic, but she ignored it all. She ran for the Mirror, her scythe nearly falling from her fingers. 

The Starflower Mirror was rather large - about the size of a computer monitor - and oval in shape. Genuine starflowers crowded the edge of the mirror. She picked it up, and it was surprisingly light. 

She glanced up, on guard. Robin had managed to wedge himself through the slit. He raised his sword and spoke a single word, a strange language Cho had never heard before. 

The tendril of magic ripped through her, much more powerful than the tingle she had received in her wild dash to this very chamber. Cho dropped to her knees, still clutching the Mirror, refusing to make any more noise, refusing to scream. She lifted a sleeve to wipe her tears away, her amethyst eyes hard as ever. Blood flowed freely from her wounds. She saw Robin step in front of her, sword raised to send a final blast of magic, to finish her off. 

Cho closed her eyes. 

She had failed Lord Voldemort. 

* * *

Increasingly getting darker, I hope. *bleary-eyed* This chappie went through a ton of rewrites and I had to sit here for three hours every day before I was satisfied with it. Typos and grammatical errors are, of course, unpardonable, so please point them out and yell at me. 

I love writing and reading about swordplay, by the way. ;) Practically every non-one-shot fics of mine have swordplay in them. I do hope that you like reading swordplay, as well. (Even though I don't know a single thing about fencing and proper swordfighting.) Also this is my longest chapter yet. :-) 

Elluxion is blathering again, as usual. Well, do click on that nice purple review button there! 

Hugs and cookies,  
Elluxion 

* * *


	8. The Phoenix and the Serpent

**Carcrashes  
Chapter Seven: The Phoenix and the Serpent  
Written by Elluxion  
**

* * *

More yummy Hermione/Draco bits in this one. ;) Review, onegai! 

People - I need a beta. Desperately. ^^; If anyone's interested, please e-mail me! 

Oh, and I forgot: the word 'Patronus' signifies a singular noun and a plural noun. At least in my fic it does. :P 

Dedicated to **blueberry girl**, or one of the sweetest people on the face of this planet. *huggles* Merry Christmas, Nattie! 

Oh, and people are beginning to notice the chemistry between Hermione and Draco, by the way. Look for the subtle hints embedded in their expressions and whatnot. :D Keep Sirius and Cho under close surveillance, especially, they've picked up on the chemistry pretty fast. 

I think. 

Hugs and cookies,  
Elluxion 

* * *

_"Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself."_

  


-Albus Dumbledore, _Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone._

* * *

The earth was reassuring and steady under her feet. Hermione felt like collapsing down onto the ground with relief. As it was, her knees were shaky from the sudden change from dangling in the air to supporting her weight on the ground. 

Draco, she marvelled, looked completely unaffected. 

She hefted up her broom and poked it into the dense shrubbery that lined Azkaban, surprised that the barrier had been the only obstacle blocking their way. Draco followed suit, and it was he who led the way deeper into the island. 

Hermione already had her wand out and she was on guard. The darkness was a cover for them, yes, but for their enemies as well. They plunged into the dense forest. Thorns and brambles scratched Hermione's bare legs as she hiked through. Draco had thoughtfully tried to break the pathway through the jungle, shoving bushes and plants out of their way, and Hermione was grateful for that. 

Fifteen minutes of mindless tracking passed before Draco drew to a stop. Hermione nearly crashed into his back. She opened her mouth to complain, and he shushed her by putting a finger to her lips and pulling her gently down. Leaves closed above their heads. 

Hermione could feel Draco's warm breath on her cheek, and a slight flush was on his face. She assumed it was the exertion of flying and then being the trailbreaker. Her leg muscles complained as she carefully shifted position to kneel instead of squat. 

"What's wrong?" she asked urgently, lowering her voice. 

"The Dementors are about twenty-five feet off," Draco whispered. His voice seemed to linger over her ear. Space was limited and they were pressed together. "They sense us." 

She tensed instantly, feeling herself stiffen with wariness and fear. In response, she could feel Draco's body tightening as well. "What do we do?" 

"They sense one witch and one wizard, both healthy, approaching them." 

"How do you know?" asked Hermione skeptically. 

He didn't look at her. "I work with them, remember?" 

Hermione's lips parted in horror as the thought knifed its way into her mind. "They are assuming we are from the Ministry," Draco hurried on. "They aren't happy about it. They want to rebel." 

"Which should make your work easier," Hermione said bitterly. 

"No. Not yours, either," he replied sharply. 

"Well, what do we do?" 

"Summon a Patronus." 

When she looked at him in amazement, Draco rolled his eyes and pulled out a trick he knew worked with her: insult. Gryffindors always had a certain measure of pride, and this one had plenty. 

"Look, Dumbledore hails you as one of the most brilliant students Hogwarts has ever had. Seems that the old man is wrong." 

"I'm not stupid!" she hissed. Draco suppressed a smile. Right on cue. "It's just that I've never had to do it before!" 

"You know the spell, Hermione." Draco was speaking faster now, more urgently. Time was running out. "You know the words, don't you?" 

"Yeah. I do," she huffed indignantly. 

"Listen to me, Hermione. You're a Muggle-born, and I'm a pureblood. If combined, the two will be powerful - have you read that before?" At Hermione's nod, he plunged on. "The Dementors will not stand a chance. My power will channel through yours and yours mine, and the mix will be devastating. You're a strong witch, both physically and mentally, and hopefully - so am I." 

"You are," she said quietly. 

"Then it'll be easy to get past the Dementors. Commanding them will be a bit harder. Once inside, don't split up, not yet. Don't break the bond. You will have to help me by using your Patronus to round up stray Dementors. I know you hate to do this - but you have to help me, first. Then we can embark on what we really came here for. I will keep the Dementors busy. Remember: the Imperius curse must be done quietly. I can explain to Voldemort about the Muggle-descent and pureblood bond, so we don't have to worry about that - yet." 

He saw the worry in her eyes. 

"I'll do the killing," he said simply. 

"Thank you," she whispered. Her cheeks were unnaturally pale. Draco would not show it, but he worried about her. She was strong, yes, but he hadn't seen her in combat before. A passing thought flicked through his mind - what if she broke down? 

He nodded and reached out, taking Hermione's hand in his. The slender fingers tightened around his. Her skin was milky and soft, and he gripped her hand gently. It was a relief, in a way. He wasn't alone any longer. He could count on her. Draco's smile was ironic. He trusted only two people in the world. They were both from Hogwarts. They were both beautiful and courageous. But the difference lay in how they made him feel. Cho Chang made him feel good, made him feel like he could tell her everything and she wouldn't judge or belittle him. Hermione Granger... she made him feel... inferior, somewhat. She made him self-conscious. And strangely enough, her presence was enough to force Draco to reach for his limits and chuck them aside, was enough to fuel Draco to do things he never thought possible. 

He helped Hermione up, still holding her hand. He saw determination mirrored in her eyes. 

Her presence gave him hope. 

~*~ 

Blood. 

From young, Cho Chang had never really been afraid of blood. Not even when it was on her. Now twenty-seven, she still felt the same way. It was just a strange crimson liquid that flowed from wounds. 

She held the Mirror protectively. It had saved her life, that mirror. She could remember everything clearly. She could remember how the Mirror had reflected Robin's magical assault. She could remember his howls as the room lit up and ruffled with terrifying, magnified magic. She could remember how Julius's face crumbled in fear as the magic seeped through the cracks and killed him. 

And now she was lying in a pool of her own blood, too tired and weak to move. Cho wanted to close her eyes and just let her life seep away from her. She didn't know what she was fighting for, but she did know that she was battling impending death. 

Cho also knew that she would lose the battle if she lay there, unmoving. 

Cho Chang was a fighter. 

She hated losing. She rarely lost, and on the occasions she did, well, Cho didn't like it. If was defeated, she went back again, and again, and again, until victory was in her hands. 

She couldn't lose this battle. 

With a groan, she pulled herself up from the ground, dragging herself upright and forcing herself to remain there. Shaking her head, trying to free herself of the headache that wracked her, Cho staggered to the door, her footsteps slow and unsteady. She employed the old technique, the basic rule of survival: keep on moving. She didn't know where she was going. She didn't know how long it would take. She would take one step, then stop and gasp for air. It was a nightmarish walk, navigating through bookshelves she could faintly make out through a red mist of exhaustion, stepping over bodies and random body parts she didn't want to focus on. 

Finally, painfully, she was at the door. It was heavy. Cho leant on the wood, panting, gasping for air. She glanced down at the Mirror and saw with horror the blood that was covering its surface. Blood that belonged to her. Her clothes were saturated in red, and it felt cold and sticky, especially at her back. Cho wondered how deep the wounds were, to be letting out so much blood like that. 

Cho clutched her scythe so tightly her knuckles turned white. 

Its blade was dripping blood, too. Dried gore clustered on the face. She was satisfied just looking at it. The blood wasn't hers, for once. It belonged to someone else. 

_I want to go home,_ she begged the door silently, trying to push it open, knowing that she wasn't strong enough to even twist the handle. _Please let me go home._

It was then she could feel magic warming the cold, dark wood. With a cry, she stumbled away from the door, not daring to touch it. It wasn't pleasant magic. It was magic of the Dark Arts. She watched, wide-eyed, as a portal opened in the door. 

_Enter, Cho, hurry!_

The voice was familiar. It was filled with compassion and tenderness and concern, perhaps even pride. Cho knew the voice well. She took one step, immersing herself within the portal, holding her scythe and the Starflower Mirror close to her. 

The portal closed behind her. 

Leaving a bloody trail behind. 

~*~ 

His grip was reassuring. Hermione tossed her head, throwing her hair back from her face. She should have tied it up, she berated herself, bound it back so that it didn't hinder her in battle. 

Together they advanced on the two Dementors guarding the one and only entrance in - and out - of Azkaban. They went rigid at their approach, drifting closer together, blocking the entrance with their bodies. 

And, suddenly, so abrupt that Hermione had no time to respond, a wave of shattering iciness cascaded over her head. She recoiled physically, instinctively curving into a ball, seeking cover and finding none. Only Draco insistently tugging at her hand stopped her from doing so. Her heart drummed against her chest in fear. 

The coldness was like a mist, a fog that wrapped around her firmly and tightly, offering no means of escape. Desperation reflected in her eyes. Hermione felt like fighting - but fighting what? It was confusing, frightening, unnatural. Blindly she stumbled forward, only a few meters away from the hooded, menacing forms. 

Again, Draco's touch was like a beacon in the darkness. He guided her, and finally he spoke, voice breaking the spell the Dementors had her in. 

"Hermione?" 

She gasped, shaking her head, and felt a certain amount of warmth return to her. It was then she realized that they had stopped, and that the Dementors were swiftly moving toward them. 

The witch entwined her fingers even more unyieldingly over Draco's, knowing that his cool flesh was the only lifeline she had through the cold. His face was pale, and he endured the same turmoil of feelings Hermione was going through, but Draco was used to it and better equipped for the shock. 

"Now," he whispered. 

Hermione immediately centered her thoughts around something happy, something that brought her joy. She thought of... the Hogwarts library? Yes. A warm, comforting place, filled with the smell of parchment, the power of knowledge. Hermione thought of the books neatly shelved, of the fact that practically the wizarding world was at her fingertips. Joy spread through her, just thinking of that place, knowing, that she had found many answers to the baffling questions the three of them - Harry, Ron, and herself - faced, there. It was a place that she felt certain and sure in, in control. It was a place where she found serenity and calm. 

"_Expecto Patronum!_" She was surprised at the strength in which her voice rang out. 

Instantly something erupted from the tip of her outstretched wand, something ethereal and seemed to be made from ether itself. It was silvery, more a hint than a presence, a creature that was beautiful and terrifying all at once. It was... 

Hermione gasped. _A phoenix?_

The bird did not make any sound, but it held its head high and regarded Hermione. She stared back wonderingly. The phoenix seemed to think that she worthy for it to serve as a protector, as it winged high into the air. Its feathers ruffled in the breeze, and it stayed gracefully in the sky, a formidable outline against the moon; the only sound that came from it was a calm rustling of its wings as they flapped gently up and down. The phoenix was large - she could have ridden on its back easily. 

She glanced quickly to her right, searching for Draco's Patronus and finding it instantaneously. It was a serpent, made of the same unearthly substance that composed her phoenix. It was positioned in front of them protectively. It resembled a Basilisk, but more slender, its movements more lithe. It turned its head, and Hermione was surprised at its eyes as they shone on her. They were large and gentle, more like that of an innocent child's than a poisonous serpent's. She couldn't help but smile at the serpent, and its eyes seemed to sparkle at her. 

Without warning, Draco grunted and seemed to go rigid. Hermione raised her head to look at him - and she felt the magic rip through her. 

She let out a cry herself. The intensity was amazing. She could feel Draco's aura toy with hers, their hands serving as a connection for both their magic. It pulsed inside her, a rush that could not be explained in words. Lights seemed to play in front of her eyes. The coldness she had experienced was wiped out entirely, and she felt like she was levitating, floating, in a place of bliss and tranquility. Finally the diverse powers melted into each other... and at that point, Hermione knew she would be connected to Draco in a way she had thought impossible. Her skin tingled dangerously and she could practically smell the magic in the air. It was then their respective Patronus attacked. 

The phoenix swooped low and seemed to pass a wing through one of the Dementors. A tense moment of stillness elapsed, and the Dementor just melted away, disappeared in a snap and a crackle. The serpent took care of the rest. It swept its tail through the remaining two, and they too vanished without a trace. 

"Easy enough," Draco muttered. But he too felt the connection drawing himself closer to Hermione. She pressed against him, against his shoulder. She could feel the light shimmering down now, the magic settling deep into her heart, and she felt a little more comfortable with moving. The initial shock had passed, and her body was quickly adjusting. 

Hermione noticed that the Patronus seemed to pulse with a light that was purer than the one before the magic had rushed through her. Their silhouettes were more prominent; expressions more detailed. The serpent led the way confidently, into the maze of cells, and the phoenix followed above. They seemed to take comfort in the presence of the other. 

Draco and Hermione followed cautiously behind. 

~*~ 

Cho gave a gasp and was thrown onto the ground. The portal coughed unpleasantly behind her and glistened weakly before dissolving back into the air. 

"Are you all right?" the tone was concerned - rarely heard. Cho pulled herself to her feet. Her scythe and the Starflower Mirror lay by her side. "I'm sorry, Master," she said, risking a glance at Voldemort, her heart sinking. 

He gave a harsh laugh. "I treat you as a daughter of darkness, Cho Chang. You know that I favor you. I don't want to lose another Death Eater, particularly one as competent as you." 

"Another Death Eater?" 

The cloaked figure heaved a sigh, voice dripping with bitterness. "Vincent Crabbe. He was caught and killed by that Auror - Dean Thomas." 

"If I may say so, Master, you're well rid of Crabbe." 

"No doubt," he replied flippantly. "But that's one Death Eater less. At any rate, Cho, that portal was a healing one. How do you feel now?" 

She examined her body, her eyes widening. She was no longer hurt or scarred in any way. The pain, the ache, the blood... they were gone entirely. 

"I'm fine, Master. I am indebted." 

"You can start paying off that debt by going over to Azkaban. I have only a few minutes ago mastered the magic of portals and I will send you over to join Draco. Help him in his quest." 

"Certainly, Master." She perked up. 

"It will be fun." 

~*~ 

Draco dashed into the maze, following his serpent and Hermione's phoenix, paying heed to where they were going so that if he and Hermione separated and the Patronus disappeared, he would know how to get out of there. Their Patronus herded Dementors ahead of them. A few moments ago, Draco had given them the order to start rounding up all the Dementors. 

Hermione tugged at his hand. "I have to go, I have to start on my part." Her eyes searched his. 

Draco didn't want to break the bond that united them, but he agreed wordlessly. He let go of Hermione's hand. 

A bitter emptiness replaced the void which Hermione's magic had filled before. Draco tried to shake it off as he gestured at a series of cells that branched off. Hermione took off down them. His serpent seemed to feel the disconnection as it shivered slightly, the light dimming. Hermione's phoenix remained, understanding the orders Hermione had issued - for it to stay and round up the Dementors. 

Draco systematically checked the entire Azkaban. The wizards entrapped behind bars were yelling, screaming for him to save them as he swept past. Their pleas fell on deaf ears. The Dementors were more than willing to follow him, but his command on them would be nonexistent if he hadn't a couple of Patronus guarding him. They were disgruntled that he had snatched away their reins of authority so suddenly. 

Hermione sprinted down the corridor, dark eyes sweeping from cell to cell, frantically seeking for a well-loved man. She turned sharply, heel pivoting, and raced down the next corridor, and the next, and the next... 

"Hermione!" The shout was incredulous, shocked, and the voice was hoarse. She skidded, nearly falling over in her anticipation, and turned to look into Sirius Black's coffee-colored eyes. 

"Oh my God, Sirius," she breathed. The eyes, the gaunt face, the physique; she scanned them all. Indeed, it was Sirius Black, once again wrongly accused, Harry's godfather. She reached out and held his hands through the cold metal bars. 

"What the hell are you doing here? With a Malfoy?" Sirius's eyes ticked back and forth, distressed. He drew a sharp, pained gasp. "You're not - " 

"Are you mad?" Hermione asked vehemently. "Of course not!" 

"God, Hermione, you've grown." 

"No time for that now," she said briskly. She stepped back and tapped her wand on the lock that deluded Sirius of his freedom. "_Alohomora!_" 

The bolt sprang open and she yanked the door open. Sirius stepped through and gathered her into a hug. "I've missed you, Hermione, I've missed Harry as well; and everyone else." 

Hermione hugged back tightly. "I understand. Right now I have something to attend to." 

"What is it?" Sirius asked in a strained voice, following Hermione as she ran back the way she came. 

"I'm here with Draco Malfoy," she said in a rush. "Do you remember him?" 

"Yes, the ferret." Sirius's eyes sparkled mischievously. "I kept in touch with Moody." 

"I'm not a Death Eater, but I'm here to place all dark wizards under the Imperius spell and lead them to Draco, who will get rid of them. I'll be releasing the wronged wizards and I need you to tell me who. If Voldemort asks, Draco will say that the dark wizards died through the Dementors. Voldemort doesn't need to know about the wronged wizards and witches who're being released." 

"Not many, at the most five." 

Hermione pulled out a wand and tossed it to Sirius, who caught it easily. "Closest I could find to your old wand. Tell me where to go and start releasing the wronged wizards yourself." 

Sirius reeled off a list of names and where they were locked up in. Hermione stored the information away in her memory and set off. 

~*~ 

Draco wanted to scream or throw up. His speech to the Dementors had been made and they were more or less agreeing to serve Voldemort. 

He just hadn't expected Voldemort to be there. 

"Master," he said quietly, bowing his head to the cloaked, hooded form. The crimson eyes blinked back at him. 

"Yes, Draco, you're doing a fine job. We came here by way of a portal." Voldemort gestured at a pulsing opening behind himself and... 

Cho? 

The Dementors seemed to understand the exchange that was happening. In scattered groups of ones and twos, they stepped through the portal and were transported elsewhere. 

"I hear you have a Mudblood with you." 

"For the Patronus bond, nothing more." 

"Who is he? Or she?" 

"She, Master. Hermione Granger." 

"Ah, a spirited Mudblood. I assume you're going to get rid of her?" 

"Y - yes, Master. But I think she got caught in the fray, back there." Draco's eyes were fixed on Cho's. 

Cho caught the lie immediately. She raised her eyebrows at Draco, frowning heavily. 

"If she hasn't, I would enjoy watching her writhe. Perhaps the Brekcious curse should be practiced?" 

"I have been doing so, sir," Draco forced out, feeling nauseated. 

"Excellent." 

~*~ 

Hermione caught Sirius's arm, startling him to a stop. Behind them, the four wizards and one witch halted behind them. 

"What is the matter?" the witch whispered, silver hair falling over her shoulders. A slight French accent curled and misted over her words. 

Hermione could not help but stare at the witch for a while, feeling compassion wash over her heart. Gabrielle Delacour was so young, only twenty, and already the Death Eaters infiltrating the Ministry had landed her in jail. Gabrielle had been a very promising Auror and already she had apprehended five Death Eaters and Voldemort supporters in one year of her career. She had been jailed for nearly six months, but her spirit was undiminished. 

"Voldemort," hissed Sirius venomously. Hermione tried to stifle a giggle as the five people behind them flinched. Harry's influence had been great, and nearly all the lives that he touched were accustomed to using the Dark Lord's name freely. 

Hermione cursed violently, letting her eyes assess the situation. She could see the tall, spindly-thin back of Voldemort, wrapped in a black cloak. Behind him, back facing them as well, was the lithe figure of Cho Chang. Positioned in their direction was Draco Malfoy, watching coolly as the Dementors disappearing into the portal. 

"How are we going to get out?" asked Gabrielle softly. "That is the only exit, in and out of Azkaban." 

"Apparating, Portkey, flying, swimming... " Hermione ran through all the possibilities under her breath. Something clicked. Her Patronus - where was her phoenix? If only she and Draco could touch again, could strengthen the bond between Muggle-born and pureblood, Hermione was certain that it could carry them all out of Azkaban. Not even Voldemort could stand against something so pure, so powerful... could he? 

She saw it. The phoenix was perched gracefully at one end of the corridor, features twisted in an expression of distaste. Its sharp eyes flicked over at her, and it hissed, expressing something along the lines of disappointment and disgust. At its feet was the serpent, eyes closed; apparently it could not bring itself to watch the wizard who had conjured him. 

_It isn't my fault._ Hermione tried to convey the message by looking at the phoenix, looking at it _hard_. _I did not want this to happen!_

The mystical aura that surrounded the Patronus shivered coldly. After a moment that seemed chained to eternity, the phoenix nodded once. 

Hermione's heart rose. It believed in her still, even after the evil things it had been forced to do. 

"Hermione," breathed Sirius. "Is that... your Patronus? The phoenix?" 

She nodded, parroting the phoenix's graceful incline of the head. 

"What of the serpent?" asked one of the wizards - Hermione thought his name was George Figg. 

"Draco's." 

"The Malfoy's?" George's tone was skeptical. "A serpent that is pure and untainted enough to have such innocence?" 

"The serpent," Hermione said quietly, feeling rage bubble in her. "Is _Draco's._ Not 'Malfoy's'." 

She didn't see Sirius whirling around to stare at her incredulously before his indigance melted away and was replaced by realization, astonishment, disbelief, and a certain resignation. 

Hermione lifted her hand, a signal of attack. 

The serpent uncoiled and hissed violently, spurred onto action by the phoenix, which was already circling around Voldemort, Cho, Draco, and the last of the Dementors. 

~*~ 

"What is this?" snapped Voldemort, drawing his wand in one smooth arc. Draco already had his wand out, but he had no intention of harming the Patronus. 

"They are the Patronus, Master," said Draco quietly. "The serpent is mine, the phoenix is Herm - Granger's." 

"The Mudblood's?" 

Draco nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Voldemort scowled and pointed his wand directly at the bird, whose song then was harsh and unforgiving. 

"_Avada Kedava!_" 

The blinding green light went directly through the ghostly creature. It seemed to have no effect at all; but Draco knew better, watching as the phoenix dipped a little lower; flapped slightly weaker. 

Draco's Patronus seemed incensed at the attack on the phoenix. It lunged forward at one of the Dementors - at its touch, the Dementor dissipated and disappeared. Voldemort howled with rage. "Malfoy, control your Patronus!" 

A flash of silken brown hair caught his gaze, and he gaped as Hermione darted down the corridor, with five wizards and a witch in tow. She stopped next to him, and motioned for the others to careen onward. The witch led the barrage, bringing her wand out and waving it at the Dementor that blocked their way. The threat seemed harmless enough, although she was yelling like a banshee, but the Dementor hastened to move to one side of the corridor, looking entranced at her silver hair and strange prism eyes. 

_Veela,_ every molecule of Draco's being screamed at him as he gaped at the Dementor in wonder. He'd never seen the guards of Azkaban back down before. 

Sirius Black halted at Hermione's side. "What the hell are you trying to do?" Draco heard him shout in horror. 

"Go on, Sirius," Hermione nearly shrieked back. Her tone was urgent. "Go, before I hex you!" She shoved him toward the door and beckoning freedom. 

Sirius Black stumbled to the unprotected exit, and Hermione and Draco were left alone with Cho and Voldemort. 

The Dark Lord was batting at the phoenix and lashing out at the serpent. It was not often that he lost his composure, but it was jarring to see two translucent forms sweeping on you. 

"Curse you, Patronus!" shrieked Voldemort in a rage. He was cursing and hexing fiercely, but they seemed to have no effect at all on the Patronus. 

Cho grabbed at the last rational thought that invaded her mind. She backed off down the corridor, her wand spewing out red sparks, trying to lure one of the Patronus toward her so that Voldemort would be less distracted. The tactic was not working; the Patronus seemed too fixated on Voldemort to notice anything else. Exasperated, Cho shot a stream of red jets through the serpent. It turned its head to regard her. 

Hermione snatched wildly at Draco's free arm, and the magic came smoothly this time. The Patronus appeared rejuvenated - they were more clearly outlined, and the serpent lost interest in Cho. After a while, Draco allowed his wand hand to fall from his side, not trying to keep up a pretense any longer. 

Voldemort was too busy with the Patronus to realize that one of his right-hand men was making no move to aid him. 

But Cho did. 

She stared at Draco, her best friend, her eyes widening in horror. Slowly, methodically, she glanced from Draco to Hermione, intent on their pale faces, their touch. She drew a future then, tugging it out from their movement and expressions bit by bit. She saw, in misty shapes and figures, what the future held for them both. 

Cho realized that she wasn't that dark a seer after all. 

_Bloody hell, Draco. You're going to fall in love with her._

* * *

Cho has a nice side! Yay! 

*slaps self* Stupid Elluxion. I keep forgetting this is supposed to be a dark fic, but I love H/D so much. *sappy smile* I found that this chapter was a little draggy, a little repeating, and maybe a tad awkward as well. It's also the longest chapter I've ever written. *sighs* Should start cutting the length, really. Sitting in front of a computer monitor for 2 hours daily can't possibly do any good to your health. 

All right, all right, 6 hours daily. 

For the first time ever, I copied the entire 16 pages into Microsoft Word and ran it through Spellcheck. It was then I realized that 'indigance' isn't even a word... or is it? 0.o;; 

Hugs and cookies,  
Elluxion

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